Albert looked into the void as he murmured, “The Duchess of Weal and Woe… Back when we were in school, I wouldn’t have thought she’d meet her end this way.”

“Is something the matter?”

“Oh, it’s nothing. You should go enjoy the party.”

“If I may be frank, I’m not good with crowded places. Although I do enjoy the attention.”

“Ha-ha! First time I’ve heard of a reserved magiroid. I guess you take after your mother.”

Indeed, Matoi was not human. She was an automaton equipped with an artificial spirit, an Einherjar-series magiroid designed and developed to destroy immortals and protect humanity. She was also a member of the Guild’s Hero Corps.

“…Forgive me. I’ve had this bad habit of saying clichés since I was a student. I suppose I haven’t changed since my Akihabara days, even after the Demon Lord himself corrected me. I should get it into my head how different we are, you and I.” Albert smiled self-deprecatingly.

“Question. What do you mean by the Demon Lord himself?”

“Back when I attended Lu Xel, the Akihabara School of Magic, there was a transfer student called Veltol, the same name as the Eschaton Demon Lord. I was still a sheltered noble boy who looked down on the rest of the world, and he broke my ego into pieces. But even now…I don’t want to believe he and that thing are one and the same. Back then, I never would’ve thought I’d join the Guild and become president, either. You never know where life will lead you.”

Albert said no more. Matoi had some questions left, but she had learned she would get no answer even if she pried further. She tried changing topics instead.

“I wonder what my Great Sister’s—apologies; Zero’s—forecast is. We’re merrymaking here, but I do fear what would happen if the enemy boosted their forces in retaliation.”

“We still don’t have precise calculations from the Eye of the Horodict. We could have exact forecasts if we had both eyes… In any case, the rough estimate is they shouldn’t launch an attack so soon after losing one of their True Six Dark Peers. That said, we can’t be sure; we must be prepared at all times… But let’s enjoy the moment, yes?”

Humanity was in constant danger. As a magiroid, Matoi didn’t have any psychological burdens, but humans under continual stress needed a break.

Right as she deduced this, Matoi received a message.

“Commander, I am sorry to interrupt your talk with the cute Hero who defeated a Dark Peer, but Doc is calling me. I must head to the Lab.”

“All right. You may go.”

“I should be done with maintenance, though.”

“It’s just parental love. Humor her.”

Matoi cocked her head in confusion, and Albert chuckled. She then left the Bunker for the long hallway leading to the Lab.

A silhouette stood at the end of the hall. Her black hair extended nearly all the way to the floor, adorned with one red tuft. She wore round sunglasses on her head and a dwarven jacket over a qipao. The peculiar-looking girl walked toward Matoi.

“Howdy-do!”

“Howdy-do, ma’am.”

Matoi bowed to the girl right after she passed by.

Hmm?

A question mark popped into her idea circuit; she raised her head.

I don’t remember seeing that lady.

She looked her way to scan her, and a system message popped up:

Interference struck for just a moment.

Matoi turned around; no one else was in the hallway anymore. The system message, the girl’s face, and the encounter itself had been deleted from her memory.

“Oh, Matoi, honey.”

“Eepyah?!”

Matoi jumped at the sound of the voice behind her.

She turned to the source and found a full-borg man with four naked prosthetic arms; he was big even for an ogre.

“What are you doing standing here?” he asked.

“Ah, Lord Hio. There was a bunny—”

“A bunny?”

“Huh?”

Matoi was taken aback by how naturally the word came out of her mouth.

What was it that I just saw?

She looked at the empty hallway.

The event was gone from her cognition and storage; she was not aware she had come across an unfamiliar woman who didn’t belong in this city.

“…Are you okay? Did you get damaged in the battle?” said Hio.

“Negative. Self-diagnosis shows no issue.”

“Hmm, you should have Doc check you either way.”

“Yes. I was just about to see her.”

“Oh, really? You had such a hard battle there, dear. Get some rest, okay?”

The big ogre man waved his four arms and walked away into the Bunker.

Once Hio was gone, Matoi entered the elevator at the end of the hall, which took her to the lowest layer of the White House. There was a short hallway and a door leading to the Lab.

The automatic door opened, revealing a room full of machinery and a pile of junk of an unknown purpose in a corner, as well as a shelf cluttered with analog clocks. In the middle of the familiar sight was a lounge chair. Matoi’s visual sensors noticed an old woman in a hooded white coat sitting on it.

“Doc, I’ve arrived.”

“You’re here.” Doc welcomed her with a smile. “You could’ve waited for the party to end.”

“I am not good with crowded places.”

“You’re the only magiroid who says that.”

“The commander told me the same thing.”

“Well, the president can’t be wrong, huh?” Doc chuckled.

Matoi did not know Doc’s real name. Records of her past were missing from the Guild’s database. She created and managed the OrAcle, a series of artificial spirits with fully autonomous thought that became the central control system of the Einherjar combat magiroids. She was also the chief engineer of the Lab and Matoi’s direct creator—her mother.

“Hmm?”

Matoi caught sight of a pair of women’s underwear hanging from a drying rack in the corner of the room.

“Excuse me, Doc, cute and intelligent me has one question. What are those panties for?”

“Hee-hee… You want to know? I had a little leak in the aftermath of the battle.”

“…I have data showing the bladder becomes weak with age. You are old now. I suggest you consider retirement.”

“Don’t treat me like some hag.”

“Heh-heh-heh… Statistics show it is not wrong to consider you one.” Matoi kept her eyes unemotional as she curved her lips and held up a horizontal V-sign.

“What’s that about…?”

“It is a new cutesy pose I’ve developed. I believe I surpass my sisters in cuteness.”

“Geez, where do you learn that stuff…? It is cute, though.”

“Affirmative. I am your magnum opus.”

“Heh. Thank you for the praise. Oh, your hair is messy. C’mere.”

“Yes.”

Matoi grabbed a stool and sat down with her back to Doc. They always did this.

Doc looked at her untidy desk. Cleaning was not her forte. It was cluttered with junk, table clocks, and a circular mithril amulet of the Horodict faith with a six-eye design.

Doc took a hairbrush out of the drawer and began brushing Matoi’s hair. The feeling of the brush in her hair and its ends caressing her skincover ran through Matoi’s nervous system.

Matoi loved this moment more than anything. This memory was for her alone, not to be synced with her sisters.

“Doc.”

“Hmm? What is it?”

“Question. I’ve always wondered, why are we Einherjars equipped with functions that are unnecessary for combat? I would think hair, for example, is inefficient for battle.”

Doc stopped.

Matoi thought of herself as a sword. A spear, an arrow, a bullet, a fang, a claw. No more. Saving the world was the Guild’s supreme purpose, and everything else was collateral. She acted human, but she put emphasis on herself as a weapon.

Doc thought for a while before resuming brushing. “You don’t like it?” she asked.

“Negative; I do like it. I simply can’t solve this question on my own.”

“Why combat magiroids are equipped with functions that are unnecessary or inefficient for combat…?”

“Yes. My analysis shows all these inefficient functions go against the purpose of our creation.”

Assistance magiroids meant to help in people’s daily lives had a reason to resemble humans, but there was no such need for combat magiroids. Hence Matoi thought it inefficient.

Doc spoke softly, as though reading a picture book to a young child:

“The Einherjar are pure combat magiroids equipped with the OrAcle series of artificial spirits.”

“…”

“And among them, the magnum opus is the Hero of the Forge—Matoi.”

“Yes.”

“You are correct. I cannot deny you are disposable weapons meant to be inevitably destroyed. People can easily empathize with humanoids, and because of that, some of us agonize when one of you is destroyed. This isn’t beneficial to the organization.”

“Then why?”

“It’s a matter of pride. This battle is for the survival of the mortals. We created you not as mere machines, but as living beings, and we treat you as such. Using and disposing of unliving machines would make us no different from our enemy. And, you see, I don’t want you to just be combat dolls. I want you to be people.”

“People?”

That was impossible. A person was defined as an autonomous being with a soul and high-level thought. A soul could only be found in the living. No matter how outstanding, no matter their capability to show emotion identical to a human’s, an artificial spirit magiroid could not obtain a soul.

Knowing that, Matoi said, “I’ll try my best.”

“Ah-ha-ha, you really are different from your sisters. That’s so cute of you.” Doc smiled like a child.

Matoi always thought the woman was childish for her age.

“Agreed. My sisters may be cute, but I am the cutest.” She made a horizontal V-sign.

“All right, you’re perfect now.” Doc finished brushing and pushed Matoi’s back.

All the tension and stress emitting from her idea circuit were gone; calm cheer and bliss spread through her central circuits.

“Thank you, Doc. Moments like this may be exactly what I fight for.”

“Hey, I can do this however many times you want.”

Matoi made a vow.

Yes, to protect this happiness…I will fight anything.

A solid oath by the Hero sworn to protect this world. Unbeknownst to her, that world would end in a matter of hours.

“The spatial distortion in the air defense zone continues to grow!”

“Pentagon operational!”

“Civilian shelter evacuation is at fifty percent!”

“Supplying from giga aether line! Launching pseudo-soul reincarnation reaction, Neo Six Paths engine running at full speed! Sixty-four Gungnir gates, eight Trishura gates, ready for launch! Loading Brionac; two hundred and twelve seconds until ready for launch!”

“What about the Endgame Countermeasure Holy Nail?! Everyone, prepare for combat!”

The Bunker was in an uproar like a jostled beehive. The operators worked the control panels desperately as reports were yelled from everywhere.

The party was over. The enemy had struck while the main troops who had fought the Duchess of Weal and Woe were resting.

Matoi was dressed in her combat vestments, standing next to Commander Albert.

“Suggestion. Commander, considering the circumstances, I should be deployed right away.”

“No, I don’t want you to be eliminated. Remain on standby until a new order comes.”

“…Roger.”

Matoi was idle. She prided herself as the Hero and knew she had to protect everyone, but she could not ignore orders and leave.

“Spatial distortion ninety-eight…ninety-nine… We have a shift reaction! A large portal is opening!”

The giant monitor displayed the skies over Washington. Within the air defense zone—the Pentagon’s detection area—a giant gate appeared. It was a portal connecting coordinates between two different spaces.

Steel-covered dragons flew through the gate.

“Mechanized dragons detected! Four hundred and thirty-two wyrms, thirty-six lindwurms, twelve dragons!”

The steel dragons had propulsion devices on their wings, which, on top of the Dragonwing Effect, made them the swift rulers of the heavens. The skies of this world were dominated by mechanized dragons.

However, humanity was also prepared.

“All Gungnir gates ready to fire!”

“Fire all Gungnir gates!”

“Fire!”

With Albert’s command, the sixty-four surface-to-air magi-optical weapons shot red lances of light toward the dragons of steel.

The video feed was corrupted by the resulting explosions.

“Are they down?!”

“No, there’s enemy feedback! They’re still standing!”

The video feed stabilized.

Mechanized dragons emerged from the smoke.

“That can’t be! Gungnir made a direct hit!”

Mechanized dragons were still organic beneath the surface; the magic-repelling Dragonscale Effect was effective on Gungnir. Nonetheless, Gungnir’s power was massive. It was unthinkable that not even one would be felled.

This meant something else had shielded them against Gungnir.

“Titanic Dragonscale Effect reaction detected!”

There was only one creature in the skies with such scales.

“Titanic-class mechanized dragon warship! Black Dragon Duchess detected!”

A giant black dragon, bulked up to three hundred meters long with mechanical armor, emerged from the portal in the sky. One of the True Six Dark Peers and the strongest under the command of the Eschaton Demon Lord.

“Mini-portal opening in the Washington environs!”

“Immortal factor pattern detected! Desecration, Thunder Slash, and Iron Shell emerging from the portal!”

The monitor zoomed in on the three figures.

First was a young blond man holding the rusty silver Holy Sword.

Second was a woman in a suit holding a sheathed katana.

Third was a ten-meter-tall magi-gear of debase form.

“They’re sending all their combat Dark Peers?!” Albert cried. “Don’t engage the Duchess of the Thunder Slash; just keep her unsteady! But don’t let them completely off the hook! Throw as many thunderbolts as possible at the Duke of the Iron Shell!”

“What about the Duke of Desecration?!” an operator asked.

“…Leave him to the Paladin,” Albert ordered while opening a personal comms line. “Paladin, report in.”

“Hiya, it’s meee. Their surprise attack is going swimminglyyy,” a young woman responded with much more cheer than the situation called for. “Hey, I know I’ve been alive a long time, but I gotta say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a worse set of circumstances!”

“Can you make it?”

“If you’re asking if I can make it, then yes. I could survive. But I don’t think the whole group can win.”

“…I see. I want you to take on the Duke of Desecration. I don’t think anyone else can.”

“Okey-dokey! Beef up the east and west, then. I’ll go do something about the fallen former Hero in the south by myself. I mean, hey, it’s the mentor’s job to give her stupid pupil a scolding for forgetting his role as the Hero!”

“We’re counting on you. I’m glad we hired you.”

“I don’t usually take sides, y’know! You better get me a literal ocean of your best liquor when it’s over.”

“I promise.”

The Paladin dropped the call.

The disadvantage was obvious. The operators looked panicked.

“Three True Dark Peers…after all the damage just one of them caused…”

“Stand your ground! We have the Pentagon. They can’t touch us.”

Washington was protected by the barrier of the holy Pentagon; this powerful shield blocked physical and magical interference. No matter how strong the True Six Dark Peers were, breaking through this wall was impossible.

“Further spatial distortion detected in the large portal! That’s…”

The portal the Black Dragon Duchess had emerged from grew larger. From there, a gigantic shadow.

“That’s Shinjuku, the Flying Demon Castle City!”

A city. A gigantic city in the sky appeared in the air defense zone.

Glowing skyscrapers and the Tocho Titanic Reincarnation Furnace. The Demon Castle stood high like a mountain.

The moving fortress in the sky—the Flying Demon Castle City of Shinjuku. The abode of the Eschaton Demon Lord Veltol.

“The man himself…! Hey, at least they saved us the trouble of going after him!” one operator, the four-armed ogre Hio, exclaimed while looking at the giant city in the sky.

Then the monitor showing Shinjuku went dark.

“What? Is the power down?”

“N-no, the power is fine. But we’ve lost control…”

“We can’t use Gungnir, Trishura, or Brionac!”

“We’ve lost the Pentagon!”

“What?! What is happening?!”

“Someone has hijacked the White House’s main control system!”

“Hacking…? We’re not connected to the aethernet!”

In the year 2149, one of the True Six Dark Peers, the Aether Hacker Duchess, had seized control of the aethernet and turned the fruits of humanity’s knowledge against humanity.

As a result, civilization had partially regressed from magic-based to electric, machine-based.

The White House ran on electric power as well; the Aether Hacker Duchess, even with her masterful skills, should not have been able to interfere with it.

The monitor turned back on, showing a grotesque rabbit skull.

“Phantom Runner… It really was you, little bunny!” said Hio. “I have no idea what magic you used, but we’re putting a stop to this now. Cut the system from the main and pull control over here! Can’t box a quantum rabbit—let’s grill it in miso!”

Two more arms appeared from Hio’s four prosthetic ones, and the fingers on all eight arms began typing spells at high speed on the console keyboard and the 3D keyboards deployed around him.

“Tsk…! You’re as dirty as ever, bunny rabbit!”

Then the rabbit skull on the screen disappeared.

“The feed is back?!”

“Not yet! It’s—”

A voice interrupted:

“Listen, mortals, sufferers of the pain of life.”

It was hard to tell whether it was a man or a woman, young or old.

Next, the speaker appeared on-screen.

A dragon skull with two twisted horns that pierced the heavens. A cloak as though made from darkness itself. A body soaked in shadow and four bony limbs like withered branches. Deep in the dragon skull, eyes burning bright vermilion like flames.

“Immortal factor pattern detected… That is…”

Everyone in the Bunker gasped as he spoke his name:

“It is I, the Eschaton Demon Lord Veltol.”

The leader of the Six Dark Peers who formed the New Demon Lord Army, the vehicle for humanity’s destruction. The Immortal King of the darklings. The enemy of all humans.

“I shall show you mortals some mercy.”

Blood dripped from the skull’s orbits as the Eschaton Demon Lord spoke.

“You may take your own lives.”

The words reached the ears of everyone listening and transformed into electrical signals within their brains.

And yet those same words were so ludicrous no one could process them.

“Well? Why are you refraining from suicide? I intend to torture you as long as possible during your destruction. I am allowing you to choose death for yourselves before falling into such a fate. Is this not mercy?”

The Eschaton Demon Lord continued:

“There is no meaning to life. No light. No value in limited life. It is but an illusion. There is no reason to maintain a world where your loved ones die. I have reached a conclusion. There is no meaning to your lives.”

“Fu—” The first to open his mouth was the commander-in-chief and president, Albert. “Fuck off! We won’t give in after hearing that nonsense! We’ll fight so long as our life shines! That is what humanity is all about!”

“I see,” the Eschaton Demon Lord said with deep disappointment as he took in Albert’s words. “In that case…I shall destroy you. As many times as necessary.”

The Eschaton Demon Lord’s thin arm pointed to the heavens.

“Del Stella.”

Then the end began.

A red, glowing, flaming meteor of insulated, compressed air shot at the Pentagon-less Washington.

“Plates one through fifty-two damaged!”

“Damage has reached the city! Heavy damage!”

“The True Six Dark Peers have broken in!”

“The Duke of Desecration has unleashed Ixasorde Diel! Signal growing! Encountering Paladin!”

“Thunder Slash and Iron Shell have commenced battle!”

A storm of reports followed shock and rumble.

“I must go…!” Matoi could not stand back and watch. “Commander, I’ll join the fight!”

“Go!” Albert cried. “You help the defense team and buy us time until the Pentagon is back online. Once that happens, you’ll face the Eschaton Demon Lord Veltol!”

“What about the True Six Dark Peers?”

“Someone else has to take care of them. You’re the only one with a chance of defeating the Eschaton Demon Lord.”

“Roger. Matoi sorties!”

As she left the Bunker for the hallway, someone grabbed her hand.

“Wait!”

It was Doc.

“Haaah…haaah… Thank goodness,” she said. “I made it in time.”

Doc was breathing heavily; she’d forced her aging body to run all this way. She looked panicked and desperate—as did Matoi.

“My apologies, Doc! This an emergency; we can talk la—”

“Matoi!”

Matoi’s memory contained no recollection of Doc using such a loud voice.

“Come,” Doc said.

“But—”

“This mission is your top priority!”

Doc held her hand tight and pulled her away.

The two walked through the pandemonium and got on the elevator to the underground. Doc sent the elevator all the way down to the Lab.

“Excuse me, Doc… What is this priority mission…?”

She did not answer the question.

Matoi’s idea circuit burned in desperation. What was she doing while everyone in the Guild fought?

The elevator was uncomfortably loud.

They reached the Lab where Doc had just brushed her hair. Doc walked to a corner of the room and tossed aside the piled-up junk.

“Matoi, help me get this stuff out of the way.”

“…Roger.”

The floor came into view under the pile. There was a hatch. Engraved on it were the words First Lab.

Doc opened it, revealing a long staircase on the other side.

“There’s more underground…? And it says First Lab…”

“Yes. To be accurate, this is the Second Lab. It was built on top of the first one after it was abandoned,” Doc said as she went down the stairs.

She opened the thick door at the end of the staircase. It was dark on the other side.

Doc pulled down the electricity lever on the wall, and the First Lab revived with a mechanical whir. It was still dark inside, even with the light—just a single old lamp that creaked under the shock of the battle above.

The room was covered in dust, showing how long it had been neglected. In the middle of it was something big, covered by cloth.

Doc pulled the cloth off, throwing dust into the air. Under it was a chair connected to multiple cables.

Matoi recalled from her memory bank a film she’d watched in the recreation room in which a criminal was executed in an electric chair.

Doc placed her hand on the back of the chair and said, “Sit down.”

The rumble above ground echoed all the way to the First Lab; pieces of the ceiling fell.

“…What is this?” Matoi asked.

“There’s no time. Just sit down.”

Matoi did as she was told.

“D-Doc…?”

Doc secured Matoi in place with a belt and worked the machinery swiftly.

“What is this…?” Matoi asked.

Doc checked the gauges while operating the console and replied:

“A time machine.”

It took some time for Matoi to process the simple answer.

“A time…machine…?”

“Space-time magicology describes this world as a tree. It’s the space-time tree theory. And the branches—the space-time branches—extend infinitely in constant intervals, and at the end of one of these branches is where we are. You can’t normally go forward or backward from the end of that branch, but a time machine does away with that law to activate time-travel magic.”

“I know that! That’s not what I mean. There’s no way such a thing can exi—”

“I’m telling you it exists, Matoi. This is it.”

Doc didn’t seem like she was joking. She wouldn’t joke around in such an emergency to begin with.

“About twenty years ago, as humanity’s territory kept shrinking under the New Demon Lord Army, the Guild designed a plan to change things,” Doc explained calmly. “Its name: the Back to the Future Project. To save humanity’s future by altering the past. A pipedream—that we managed to make reality. In theory, at least. I was part of the development team.”

Doc talked as though it was no big deal. But Matoi knew the path there must’ve been more difficult than she could even imagine.

“It is perfect in theory. My mother—the notes she left behind helped me complete the device.”

“Question. I don’t understand why you didn’t use it if it was complete.”

“It’s got a huge defect. The most common theory in contemporary space-time magicology says if one were to go back to the past and alter cause and effect, the current timeline of 2149 would disappear, and us with it.”

“Disappear… So altering the past would create a paradox, causing everything on the branch that occurred from that point forward to vanish. Correct?”

“Exactly. And we didn’t find a way to overcome this. The president before Albert put the project on ice. It’d mean destruction either way if we couldn’t survive, he said,” Doc muttered bitterly. “He closed off the Lab and ordered us to destroy the time machine. I hid it all, though. Then I joined the Einherjar project the Guild had been working on at the same time. The OrAcle artificial spirit-powered humanoid autonomous weapons.”

“And then we came to be.”

“Yep.” Doc nodded. “Now the enemy has launched a successful surprise attack. I’m not knowledgeable about war, but I can tell we’re going to lose this one. That’s why I brought you here.”

“…”

Matoi still wanted to run to the aid of her comrades. The impulse came from somewhere other than her idea circuit’s logical thinking. The chances weren’t zero, but her calculations did show a most likely defeat.

“This time machine is finished on paper—it’s never been tested. We’re still taking our chances here, but if the Eschaton Demon Lord destroys everything, then it’s the same as if everything vanished from changing the past. Better bet on this one, right?”

“Did you tell the commander…?”

“No. He knows nothing. I’m acting on my own.” Doc paused her hands and shot Matoi a severe glance. “Matoi, humanity’s last Hero. As lead engineer, I’m giving you your final quest.”

“Yes.”

“It’s a journey into doom. You must alter the past and erase this timeline. Whether you succeed or fail, not only you, but I, our comrades, and the world you fought to protect will disappear. Still, I ask of you—change the future.”

Chagrin, disgrace, humiliation, ignominy.

Doc spoke with indescribable shame.

Even with a mechanical body and magical brain, Matoi could tell how Doc felt. So…

“Roger. I will handle it, Doc.”

…Matoi, humanity’s last Hero, nodded resolutely.

It was an important mission full of uncertainties. Who knew if this would work to begin with? Still, she was sure she would accomplish it.

“The Eschaton Demon Lord Veltol began annihilating humanity in the far east in 2099. The turning point must be somewhere there. The machine will determine the turning point and transport you to a nearby time and place.”

“So I will go to the past and slay the Eschaton Demon Lord Veltol.”

“Yes. If you defeat him, there is a high chance we can avoid annihilation. He created this situation. But…”

Doc pondered for a moment.

“…there’s a chance he might not be the one you have to defeat.”

“What do you mean…?”

“I mean you must consider every possibility. A fight might be unavoidable in the end, but fighting is not your only choice. Also…”

Doc touched Matoi and connected to her encrypted comms. Through them, she installed a few programs and documentation on Matoi’s idea circuit.

Doc gripped Matoi’s hand tightly. “We don’t know where you’ll end up, and we don’t know how likely it is you’ll succeed. You won’t have any support there. You’ll be by yourself to complete this mission.”

“I understand. I’ll do it. I’m outstanding. But Doc…you can’t come with me?”

“The machine is built for just one person. And you have the best chance of pulling this off.”

“I see…”

“You’ve got this.” Doc gripped Matoi’s hand tighter. “I’m sorry,” she said. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry…”

The tears fell on her decrepit, spindly, yet beautiful fingers.

“Question. I don’t understand the logic behind your crying.”

“I’m ordering my child to leave me forever. What could be sadder…?”

“Negative. I calculate that tears are unnecessary, Doc,” Matoi countered. “I…”

Many emotions were produced as her idea circuit overheated; her vocal medium was too thin on data to convey them.

The words wouldn’t output. She couldn’t find a way to transmit her feelings. Instead, she softly held Doc’s hand.

“…I’m sorry, Doc. I can’t put it into words.”

Technically, her expressions couldn’t change much. Yet Matoi smiled.

“But please, please do not cry. I’ve received so much love from you. And let me tell you one more thing.”

“Matoi…”

“Thank you so much for creating me and making me so cute.” Matoi made a horizontal V-sign, the latest cutesy pose in the year 2149 FE. “I’m going, Doc. I’ll save the world.”

“Go, Matoi. Trust your sense of justice.”

Matoi booted up the time machine and set the time-traveling magic in motion.

There was not enough to say as parting words, but there was no time to tell it all.

There was no physical shock to the time traveler.

“…!”

However, Matoi’s idea circuit made her feel pushed to the back, like under the inertia of a flying vehicle in sudden takeoff.

The counter-timestream magic made the surrounding aether kick up a storm.

Her memories flashed before her. Doc’s messy desk, with the clocks and six-eyed amulet on it. Doc’s lab coat’s hood was blown back, and Matoi saw inside it for the first time.

She instantly referenced all the data in her memory. Her memories of the sight after her first boot-up, of her sisters and comrades in the Hero Corps, of the citizens of Washington.

Undecipherable static flooded her idea circuit. Cleaning solution spilled from the corners of her visual device lenses.

And the next moment, she let out a scream.

“■■■■!”

She could no longer hear any sound once the counter-timestream began.

She knew it was too late, but she tried reaching out. Her movements were terribly sluggish compared to her intent.

Doc and her surroundings were pulled and stretched away.

Only Matoi’s thoughts continued as everything around her kept being pulled away into white light, before even that was pulled away into darkness.

Then a floating sensation.

The regret of one thing she had left to say remained. She was sure she could push herself to say it next time, yet there would be no next time.

After a moment that felt like an eternity, the counter-timestream travel came to a close.

Month of the ■■■■■■■, Day ■, 2■■9, F■, ■■:■■

The first thing Matoi felt was gravity.

Snowy static filled her vision; it was hard to tell where she was.

“Hnnn…”

The static subsided bit by bit; her vision began to return.

I’m here…

Her remaining ability to calculate proved she had safely crossed time.

It…worked…

The view surrounding her was, naturally, not the underground laboratory.

She lay on an altar made of skullia. Her idea circuit surmised she was in a temple.

“Doc…”

Of course, Doc was not there.

Sadness, regret—Matoi pushed these emotional waveforms down and concentrated on the mission. She could do this solely because she was a machine.

She lowered her field of view and found herself naked. The combat vestment she had on was gone. Her skincover, hair, nervous system, mana engine, and other magic motors seemed to be unharmed.

Matoi surmised her combat vestment had vanished en route because it was made of aether thread.

Her defenses were greatly diminished, but she had to take the hit and move on.

Overload smoke came from the time machine as she stood up and ran a check on her operations. The impact from the time travel had damaged her slightly, but her organic-metal frame could be restored by pouring mana into it, and her skincover was made of red dragon cells that automatically regenerated. She could recover without any special treatment.

“All green.”

She then ran a self-diagnostic and got results back right away.

Numerous systems were failing, and some were unusable. The damage to Swampman and the external memory storage was particularly discouraging.

Unlike Matoi’s regular memory storage, which contained her personal and synced experiences, the external memory storage was the database of outside installations. Now Matoi could only rely on her own experiences and memories. That said, she was fortunate to have lost only that much after going through untested time travel.

“First, I must get out of here.”

Judging from the terrain, air, and aether, she was underground.

Matoi walked up to the surface. She traversed the otherworldly building and up the long, stopped escalators until she reached the labyrinth’s exit.

She opened a heavy metal door and was blinded by the light that streamed in.

There it was—the world.

The outside was filled with far more information than she had learned in the White House.

The light was overwhelming. Vivid and bright aether neon burned her visual device.

Light seeped from the buildings’ windows. Light glowed from the commercials on the giant holographic displays on the buildings’ walls. Light shone from the red lanterns hanging from the eaves. It ran from the taillights of the old ground vehicles that seemed to crawl along the streets. It blinked from the drones and flying vehicles soaring through the skies.

Light, light, light, light…

It was all multiple times brighter than anything in Washington, humanity’s last stronghold. Matoi was overwhelmed by the amount of new information not sourced from the OrAcle’s calculation power.

The system voice read the time and coordinates that appeared on her visual interface.

The origin of causality for humanity’s destruction, the end of the space-time branch, would arrive in two days.

“I really came back to the past…”

Matoi had traveled through time.

She would receive no external orders.

“Trust my own sense of justice…”

She ruminated over what Doc had told her before the jump. Her autonomous thought process set the priority quest—what to do next.

“Priority quest set. Doc’s final mission: change the past and avoid extinction.”

Matoi had no time left before the future was set in stone.

The fight of humanity’s last Hero to prevent the birth of Eschaton Demon Lord Veltol began. A fight she had to see through even if it meant the annihilation of the future she once protected.

CHAPTER ONE

Chronos-Trigger City—Shinjuku

Month of the Gryphon, Day 2, 2099 FE, 14:25

“The victim is the owner of this mansion, Elu Dilou, a fifty-six-year-old therian man. He received a blow to the head.”

Multiple people were gathered in the middle of a dark room.

“I believe this is not a simple accident.”

The light on the ceiling blinked, shining on one individual in a striking contrast of light and shadow.

“The perpetrator is cunning. The crime took place in the bath, with no windows, only a small vent, and locked from the inside. The victim is still unconscious. A real tragedy.”

This individual was a tall human man wearing a black Inverness coat over a black suit, and a black deerstalker hat over his long, black hair.

The figures around him spoke.

“How did this happen…?”

“I can’t stay here! I’m going back to my room!”

The human man tried to appease the orc and dwarf men. “Calm yourselves. I am in the middle of my deduction, and you will not leave this room. Now, how did the perpetrator accomplish this crime…? The six people gathered here were not present at the time of the crime—all suspects. Four have an alibi, which leaves us with two—”

More voices came from the shadows:

“You’re saying one of us did it?!” an elven boy shouted.

“Where’s the proof?! Show us proof!” a therian woman demanded.

The man pulled his hat down in annoyance at the pair’s objections. “Good grief, that is the only thing you can say. Proof, proof, proof…”

“And you call yourself a detective?!”

“You joker! You should be ashamed of yourself!”

“There seems to be a misunderstanding. I am not a detective, but merely an assistant. Right, Ms. Great Detective?”

Then:

“Yes, there is a detective right here. And a detective present means a solved mystery, soon enough,” came a graceful voice from the shadows.

“Do you know who is behind this crime?” the man asked her.

“Yes. It is elementary, my dear assistant.”

“Oh?”

“Two culprits…is what one would normally think, but that’s not right. And the culprit isn’t among us, although they are in this room.”

“Let us hear it, then, Great Detective. Your deduction.”

The woman revealed herself from the shadows into the light.

She wore a vest and corset under a white coat. Two foxlike ears poked through each side of her checkered deerstalker hat, and under it flowed long, chestnut-colored hair. She was a half-therian.

“Let us raise the curtain, then. I, Emi Chabatake, the Great Detective of Shinjuku—and my trusty assistant, Veltol Velvet Velsvalt—shall give you the answers.”

And then she said…

“The mystery has been solved.”

The detective winked with a smile and pointed at the perpetrator.

“The culprit is you.”

A colorful pet slime inside a cage in the corner of the room.

Month of the Gryphon, Day 2, 2099 FE, 08:12

Spring. Twirling cherry blossoms.

The season of new meetings—and the season of partings.

The graduation ceremony was over. I walked through the cherry trees in bright spirits with my diploma in hand.

I had met many people and lived many experiences during this year as a normal student in an abnormal school. I had even fallen in love.

I crossed the tree-lined path toward the school gates.

I felt as if the culmination of the past year’s meetings and events was waiting for me.

With that expectation in my heart, I passed through the school gate.

“Hey, Veltol.”

On the other side was a blond man with a chill smile.

“Oh… It’s you,” I said. “You ruined the moment.”

“What’s wrong with you? Have you forgotten how much I helped you this year?”

“No, I haven’t. Thank you, partner. Let’s go.”

Sheesh. My story was not bookended with bittersweet adolescence.

Looks like I’ll keep sticking around this blondie for a while.

“WHYYYYYY?!”

The credits rolled as the ending theme, Ambrosial Strew, played.

“How didn’t I get Miyabi’s route after all that?! How do I keep getting this ending with that blond man?!” livestreamer Veltol Velvet Velsvalt bellowed.

Veltol was playing the all-ages edition of dating simulation game Adanasake ~Love Falls Like a Cherry Blossom~.

This dating sim took place in a school. The player was a student at Saint Altres Academy who fostered a romance with one of the schoolgirls over the course of a year.

Veltol was trying to get the ending with the half-therian character Miyabi Ryuugakuin, a girl who treated the player like one of her close guy friends.

UNFORTUNATELY, MIYABI DOESN’T HAVE A ROUTE.

SHE GOT A ROUTE IN THE FANDISC, BUT YOU PROB CAN’T STREAM THAT HERE

SHE’S SO PRETTY, RIGHT? I GET WHY YOU’D WANT HER

YOU SUCK AT THIS, VEL. YOU’RE TERRIBLE AT DATING SIMS!

HE’S TERRIBLE AT GAMES, PERIOD

HIS STREAMS ARE GOOD, THO…

AWKWARD LORD VELLY IS SO CUTE I COULD JUST GOBBLE HIM UP!

Veltol glared at the comments section egging him on. “I hate this blondie’s good guy vibe! And he looks a little like Gram…which only makes it worse…,” he grumbled.

HE GOT A ROUTE IN THE FANDISC, TOO

RELAX, YOU CAN ALSO CHOOSE BETWEEN AN XY AND XX BODY

WHY ARE THE DEVS SO METICULOUS ABOUT THAT STUFF…?

Exhausted, Veltol tried wrapping up the stream. “I shall get at least one route in this game, but I have something to do today. Unlike you people.”

GIVE US 1000 MORE HOURS PLS

DON’T GO

YOU OF ALL PEOPLE ARE TELLING US TO TOUCH GRASS?!

“Ha. Thank you for the donos. And don’t forget to check out my new apparel on the official store. A swift and peaceful death to you fools.”

REST IN PEACE.

REST IN PEACE

RIP

RIP

“Don’t say that.”

Veltol stopped the stream and pointed at the screen to check whether the software really was off, then checked from another device that the channel was offline before he left the room.

Once all that was over, Veltol was no longer the supernova streaming star who’d popped up out of nowhere in Shinjuku City in the year 2099 of the Fused Era.

He had another identity.

Five hundred years in the past, before the worlds of Earth and Alnaeth fused, he had been the one and only Demon Lord, who led the Immortal Army to spread fear all over Alnaeth.

At the end of the battle called the Immortal War, the Hero Gram destroyed him, but Veltol overcame his destruction via reincarnation magic and was reborn in the modern era. His identity as a streamer was but part of his efforts to recover the faith—the emotions of others toward him—that had weakened during those five centuries in flux.

Veltol’s “castle” was on the thirteenth floor of a luxury apartment complex on Shinjuku’s Kabukicho Street. The place was not attainable even for a popular streamer, but due to various circumstances, he got it with super-cheap rent.

In the living room were two girls.

“Welcome back, Lord Veltol.”

One wore a T-shirt with a tanuki on it. Her hair was long and silver, and her eyes crimson. A beautiful girl, like the personification of a first snow.

“Hey, Veltol. Over already?”

The other looked younger than the first, more worthy of being called a little girl. She wore a black tracksuit with gold trim and a shirt with the word dragon written in katakana. She had black hair, golden dragon eyes, and brown skin—as well as horns, wings, and a tail.

An unenlightened third party would guess she was a full-borg with special attachments, but her wings and tail were real.

The silver-haired girl was the Duchess of the Dazzling Blaze, Machina Soleige. The black-haired girl was the Black Dragon Duchess, Sihlwald. They were both subjects of Demon Lord Veltol and powerful immortal members of the Six Dark Peers.

Naturally, neither were the age they looked—not to mention Sihlwald was a real dragon merely assuming human form.

Machina sat courteously on the living room sofa, while Sihlwald sat slovenly on her lap as they watched an animated show streaming on the spatial-projection monitor.

“Sister, Machina seems to be upset,” said Veltol.

“Shut it, Little Brother! Who cares?!”

Despite what they called each other, Veltol and Sihlwald were not blood relatives. They couldn’t have been; she was a dragon and he was an immortal human.

Long, long ago, the two of them decided Sihlwald would act as an elder sister to Veltol, and Veltol would treat and respect her as such.

“You’re not upset, are you, Machina? You like me sitting on your lap!”

“Yes, of course. I am very happy to be reunited with you, Lady Sihlwald. However, I would like you to refrain from getting too close when I’m doing chores…”

“If you say so…” Veltol reluctantly acquiesced while staring at the smug look on Sihlwald’s face.

It was only recently that Sihlwald had moved into this “castle.”

Following Veltol’s resurrection five centuries after his defeat by the Hero Gram, the Demon Lord was betrayed by one of his former Six Dark Peers, the Duke of the Bloody Arts, Marcus, all while revealing the darkness that lurked within Shinjuku City.

Then he infiltrated Akihabara’s School of Magic in search of his remaining Dark Peers and stopped a clash between the city’s two factions, which was triggered by the goddess of weal and woe with involvement from the Guild—the Salvation Church.

Veltol followed the lead he’d obtained in Akihabara to an isolated, controlled arcological society and reunited with Sihlwald, who had been sealed away in Yokohama, where he destroyed the mechanical god that had awakened through the deaths of a homunculus girl and numerous citizens.

This sequence of events brought them to the present day.

Sihlwald was set free after nearly five centuries, making her just as lost in the modern era as Veltol. She was given a free room in his apartment.

That said, given her uninhibited nature and the fact that she had a friend in Shinjuku City, she was constantly going back and forth between the “castle” and her friend’s house. Sihlwald’s room was basically just a place for her to sleep at night.

Machina looked at the front spatial-projection monitor. “Well then, Lord Veltol has completed his public affairs, and since you’re unoccupied, Lady Sihlwald, we’ll bring you up to speed on the problems we are dealing with. For your sake, Lady Sihlwald.”

“Hmm? But weren’t we just killing time while Veltol played? Why are you accusing me of being idle when he was literally playing games over there?”

“L-Lady Sihlwald! Shh! Shh!”

Machina placed her finger in front of her face before touching the floating console to play the morning news segment she’d recorded. The screen showed a dwarf newscaster and an ogre commentator.

“Early this morning, orc Lu Luija, age 32, was murdered in an apartment in east Shinjuku.”

“Signs of struggle and ritualistic magic circles were found at the scene, and one of Luija’s eyeballs was injured. Since Luija was a magi-eye owner, the case is being linked to the serial killings of other magi-eye owners.”

“The investigation is proving difficult for the City Guard. The crime scenes all show signs of beyondization, so anyone who lives near a location with such phenomena is asked to exercise caution.”

“Most eerie about this case is that no security cameras have captured footage of the perpetrator. It’s almost as though the culprit is invisible.”

“We have criminal analyst Regio here with us. What do you make of the perpetrator’s profile, Regio?”

“My expertise tells me the criminal is human, or perhaps a therian or an orc, although this could be the work of some other species. I believe they possess either an entirely or partially organic body, or they’re perhaps a full-borg.”

“This person claims to be a criminal analyst?!” Machina yelled at the screen.

Veltol looked away from the news and at Machina and Sihlwald. “This is the fourth Collector case. It’s all over Shinjuku’s local network, too.”

“Isn’t murder just par for the course in this town? You can walk into any random back alley and find a body lying around. Why’s this news?” Sihlwald asked.

“Umm, well,” Machina began, “there are many reasons, but the main one is that this criminal has been appearing in various cities since a few years ago.”

“Not just Shinjuku?”

“No. The first Collector case was in London, and more have occurred in other cities around the world. Another reason is that there have been few eyewitnesses, and the culprit never appears in security footage. Nobody has any idea what they could look like. And third, all the victims have a magi-eye, and all the killings take place in beyondized locations.”

“Magi-eyes, huh…?”

“There are also strange rituals taking place, going by the magic circles found at the crime scenes. This is where the Collector nickname comes from. Rumors of sightings appear on the aethernet all the time, and now it is basically an urban legend.”

“Why’re they collecting magi-eyes? To eat ’em?”

“I doubt that’s the case… Rumors say they either just collect them or sell them on the black market.”

“Mm-hmm, so what’s this Collector have to do with our problems? We’re trying to get May back, right? And look into whoever’s calling themself Zenol.”

“Well, Sister, Takahashi just told us she’s gotten intel that will clear up your confusion. Machina, let’s go over it.”

“Yes, sir. Eleclait, if you could please.”

Machina had her Familia’s artificial spirit project a hologram in the air.

The hologram was a girl.

“Oh, Takahashi! Howdy-do!” Sihlwald smiled and waved at the girl.

Takahashi, dressed in a qipao and a dwarven jacket, looked nervous, her eyes unfocused.

“Oh, it’s already recording?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“That’s Hizuki’s voice,” Machina said.

“Those two know nothing about video recording. I shall teach them how to do it,” Veltol added.

Takahashi cleared her throat before speaking in a grave tone.

“Erm, Velly, I just got results of what you asked me to investigate. You…you better just take a look.”

Takahashi snapped her fingers, and a window appeared beside her. The window showed a video.

“That’s…a security camera feed?”

Veltol was right. The camera recorded a city somewhere.

“Wait, I know this place. That is Goar.”

Goar was the city opposite the coast of the isolated iron island of Yokohama.

The feed showed the entrance of a domestic-style ramen restaurant in Goar. Multiple people came out of the eatery.

“That’s me, Hizuki, Kinohara, and…huh?” Machina mumbled.

“Machina and Hizuki said there should’ve been another person with them here.”

“May…or rather, Ange,” said Veltol.

Machina nodded.

While Veltol, Sihlwald, and Takahashi were in Yokohama, there was a fourth person in the ramen place. One of the Six Dark Peers, the Duchess of the Mournful Firmament—her body taken over by a Hero, an agent of the Guild, codename Ange.

“I checked the security cameras and drone footage in Akihabara and Goar, where we encountered Guild folks, but they came up empty. Same thing with the Zenol guy Machina ran into at the Goar port district.”

Veltol, Machina, and Sihlwald tensed up as soon as Zenol’s name mentioned. He was one of the Six Dark Peers, the Duke of the Karmic Sword. A vassal of Veltol like May was, and a colleague to Machina and Sihlwald.

Another of the Six Dark Peers, Marcus, the Duke of the Bloody Arts, had betrayed the immortals and captured Zenol, who had helped Machina escape the Immortal Hunt. Zenol was fed to the Immortal Furnace and destroyed.

And yet someone claiming to be Zenol had run into Machina in Goar.

“There’s no sign of the feeds being tampered with. And since Machina and Hizuki actually saw this Ange person, it can’t be optical camouflage magic. It’s technically possible these Guild folks are all master aether hackers like me and could overwrite the feed in real time without leaving any trace, but I’m pretty sure there’s gotta be another explanation.”

Which was…

“They’re using magic to not appear in security footage?” Hizuki asked from outside the frame.

“Yep. A very specialized form of concealment magic. Also, look at this.”

Another window appeared next to Takahashi. It showed grainy footage of a dark alley, something highly unusual, given the high quality of modern-day cameras.

“What’s that?” Sihlwald asked.

“I found this by chance when I snuck into the Shinjuku City Guard’s server.”

“Why did you sneak into the City Guard’s server…?” Hizuki asked.

“I was wondering if maybe they had some info on the Guild and then came across this video of the murderer everyone’s talking about… But hey, this little playti—impulse gave me some amazing findings!”

“Were you just about to say playtime?”

The blurry footage showed two people. One was a therian wearing tattered clothes and bandages. The other was an orc man.

The bandaged person attacked the orc, strangling him to death, and then drew a magic circle before proceeding to gouge his eye out.

“You should’ve given me a trigger warning… I’m gonna puke,” said Hizuki.

“This is the first victim of the magi-eye serial murders in Shinjuku. The camera happened to record it by chance; I don’t think the video has made the media.”

“I heard them say the Collector doesn’t appear in any security footage.”

“They said that on the news just now,” Sihlwald noted.

“That’s the thing. The Collector doesn’t appear in any other camera feed. What’s special about this camera is it’s not a magic-operated one like what’s common nowadays; it’s an electrical antique.”

“Huh…”

“So I went back and checked Goar’s electrical cameras and found a glimpse of Ange. We can deduce that Ange and the Collector use the same spell to not show up in magical cameras.”

“…Ah! Then that means the Collector…”

“…is likely linked to the Guild.”

Hizuki and Veltol spoke in unison.

“Yep. Oh, also, Velly, about that one spell: There’s a bit that’s outside my expertise. I sent you a message with the technic’s composition. Give it a read. Bye-bye.”

The holographic video stopped, and Takahashi’s image disappeared.

“I see…,” Veltol mused. “I have no interest in the Collector’s crimes, but if they are a member of the Guild or at least have some connection to it, then I cannot overlook this.”

Veltol turned to look at Machina and Sihlwald.

“It appears the best way to find out how to rescue May is to catch this Collector roaming the streets of Shinjuku.”

Then he stretched his arms and loudly proclaimed, “So we will not split up. I shall go meet the detective on Kabukicho Street Takahashi mentioned to me. Getting a professional should be more efficient than snooping around this sprawling city without any leads. Machina, you go with Takahashi and Hizuki to keep gathering intel. We shall investigate this from every angle. Such is our quest!”

“Yes, my lord. Although Takahashi will surely be taking over most of the work gathering data…”

“What about me? Huh, huh? And me?”

“Sihlwald, you…” Veltol held his hand up to his mouth and pondered.

He did not address her as Sister because he was not speaking as her little brother, but as the Demon Lord commanding his Dark Peer.

“You…you take care of Machina. Remain vigilant in case the situation changes.”

“All right! Leave her to me! Machina, you’ve nothing to fear with me by your side!”

“Of course. I’m counting on you.”

“Now we must move quickly. Good luck, Machina.”

“Yes, my lord. I won’t disappoint you.” Machina’s smile looked the same as always.

“…”

But Veltol noticed the slight discontent in her heart—much too faint, in fact, to even bring up.

“Machina.”

“Yes?” She tilted her head, visibly confused.

“No… It’s nothing.” Veltol kept his thoughts to himself.

“Hey, you two!” Sihlwald said.

“What is it, Lady Sihlwald?”

“I know what you’re thinking! Oh, Lord Veltol and I were separated in Goar, and I haven’t been around him a lot lately, either. Not that I would ever say that, and I have zero complaints about my role, but I just wish I could be by his side!”

“Wh-wh-when did you learn to read minds?” Machina stammered. “And don’t imitate my voice!”

“And you, Veltol! I realize Machina wants to accompany me, but it is far more efficient for her to search elsewhere, and I do not need someone as skillful as her on my end of the investigation. Besides, if I, as king, were to rescind a command my vassal has already agreed to, it would be like spitting in the face of her loyalty. I cannot ask her to come with me!”

“You truly have my thoughts down to the most minute detail, Sister…”

“Just say all that out loud! If you keep that stuff bottled up, it’s gonna make trouble down the line! I learned that after watching Moebius Protocol season two with Takahashi and Hizuki the other day!”

Veltol smiled awkwardly and shrugged. “I cannot disagree. So, Machina, what do you say? Will you come with me?”

He did not command her as king; he invited her as an individual.

Without the slightest hesitation, Machina replied, “No. I greatly appreciate the invitation, but I shall fulfill my task. There is no greater joy as your vassal. It’s true that I would like to accompany you, Lord Veltol, but it is also undeniable that I enjoy carrying out my mission.”

“Is that so…? Very well.”

He said no more.

“Best of luck, Lord Veltol. I will make curry for your return.”

Machina wore a faint smile, beautiful like a snowflake.

Month of the Gryphon, Day 2, 2099 FE, 09:20

Now, then…

Matoi ran her idea circuit at full speed.

She had traveled fifty years into the past with nothing on her. Her main quest was to prevent humanity’s obliteration in the future. Doc had installed functions that would aid in this difficult objective right before Matoi traveled to the past.

Matoi opened the manual installed within her and inputted the specs vocally.

First, the Pseudo Eye of the Horodict.

“This is a limited emulation of my Einherjar Great Sister’s foresight algorithm meant to operate via my idea circuit… Looks like it won’t work on its own; it’s meant to support the two other programs.”

Second, the space-time divergence measurement program.

“This measures the divergence percentage of my current timeline from the 2149 timeline. The higher the number, the higher the probability of the future ending in annihilation. One hundred percent means the future is set in stone. Currently, it’s at 99.999999999999999999999999 percent…so basically set in stone.”

Third, the causality interference measurement program.

“This assigns a numerical value to a subject’s impact on the future. The higher the number, the likelier the subject is to have an effect. This only measures interference in causality, so it doesn’t necessarily mean they are directly moving the future toward the path of destruction. The max value is…one hundred.”

Matoi gave herself a summary.

“I must eliminate the Eschaton Demon Lord Veltol or find whoever affects the causality the most in order to lower the space-time divergence to zero.”

Some of her functions were under repair due to the time travel, though. She had to complete various side quests before the main quest. She could do nothing about the repairs. What could she do for starters?

As she calculated her options, the people around her stared at her and whispered to each other.

“Why’s she like that outside?”

“Isn’t she cold…?”

“I can’t believe even pretty girls do stuff like this…”

“Nah, there’s gotta be a dirty old man inside. Can’t see a Familia, but it might be internal.”

“For real…? So you’re saying the girl I met at VBNK yesterday could actually be an old man, too?”

“C’mon, dude, everyone there is full-borg old guys. That’s the whole gimmick.”

“…………………………………………………………Wait, what?”

Matoi got information she did not need.

Conclusion: Acquiring clothing was the priority.

The combat vestment she had lost was tailor-made; obtaining the same thing with 2099’s technology would prove difficult.

At first, she thought everyone was staring in awe of her cuteness, but now she knew they were looks of perplexity, since she was basically naked in human terms.

“It is unavoidable for my cuteness to turn heads, but according to my calculations, standing out for any other reasons cannot be good for the mission.”

Doc had told Matoi she was made as close to the real thing as possible, but now she thought perhaps she had made her a bit too cute.

“Inference: My cuteness is a crime.”

Guessing she would actually be charged for crimes if she kept walking around like that, Matoi gave the rubberneckers a sideways V-sign pose and emotionless smirk before moving to a lonely back alley.

The buildings sprawled in mazelike fashion, with iron pipes crawling across their walls like veins or ivy. Outdoor air conditioners let out a low hum from their condensers’ fans.

Just as she stepped into the back alley…

“Geez Louise. Look at this sex kitten we’ve got ’ere.”

“Why’re you dressed like that, pervert? Also, what’s a sex kitten?”

A couple of street children.

They wore Familias, but their bodies were not mechanized. Both were human and appeared to be in their teens, which was about how old Matoi looked. The girl held a knife, and the boy had a long steel pole.

Matoi lamented that her measurement programs weren’t restored yet, as she would have analyzed these people, too.

“She’s a full-borg?”

“Let’s break her up and sell the parts. I’ve got a contact in the yakuza.”

Matoi detected enmity in their words.

The two took a step toward her and raised their weapons.

A system message popped up: Partial functions of Gulagalad restored. Metal Rule unleashed; effective area limited to 2 meters.

Despite the enmity, she would not kill them—only neutralize them. This was a good opportunity to check her limited functions. Matoi summoned the copper-colored gauntlet Gulagalad from her personal virtual space, equipped it, and raised her hand—her manipulator.

“Let’s take the chance to test this out.” She touched her thumb to her middle finger. “Gulagalad, activate.”

Then she rubbed them together—a snap of her fingers.

A shrill ringing like smashing metal with a hammer filled the alley.

Then…

“What?! My knife’s slipping…!”

“Wh-whaaa—?!”

…the nearby metal objects began moving as if they were alive.

The girl’s knife, the boy’s pole, and the pipes snaking across the walls went limp and warped before attacking the street children. They wrapped around the pair like snakes or ropes and pushed them to the wall, completely incapacitating them.

This was Metal Rule, one of Gulagalad’s three powers. It was usable in drive mode. By snapping the gauntlet’s fingers, one could control all metal within earshot of the snap, but as its functions weren’t fully recovered yet, the area of effect was greatly limited.

“What’re you doing, you bi—?”

Matoi snapped her fingers again before the girl could finish insulting her, changing the pipe’s form to make a steel mask that covered the girl’s mouth.

“I understand you would like to get a hold of such a cutie-pie like me, but I’m afraid I can’t allow that, as I have a most important mission to carry out. I also apologize in advance for what I’m about to do. I’m sorry.”

Matoi opened and closed her hand repeatedly.

“Mm! Mmm!”

“Mmm! Mmm! Mmm!”

“I will be borrowing your clothes. I don’t know when I might be able to give them back. You don’t mind, do you? Oh, right, your mouths are covered.”

She took off their clothing and put them on.

“You’ll be released soon, so in the meantime, please try to calm yourselves. And don’t attack people like that again.”

Matoi let them off with a scolding and then left.

She had completed her first goal of acquiring clothing. That was one side quest done.

“Now to gather information. The future will be set in two days. Time is running out.”

Matoi then set her next objective. She could process vastly more information internally through her idea circuit than through voice, but speaking the most important info out loud made the processing easier.

“Request assistance from the Guild in this era… No, negative. I have records of the Guild in memory, but I have no way to contact them, and it is a very different organization from that in 2149. And I don’t have the time to begin with…”

With no other means of gathering intel than walking around, she wandered through the mazelike alleys until she reached a dead end.

Then she heard…

“Tell me the truth, then!”

…a desperate yell.

Matoi’s visual sensors picked up a slight spatial distortion and two people.

One was a half-therian woman standing in the middle of the alley, her back turned to her. Although Matoi couldn’t see her face, the woman reminded her of an old detective story she’d seen in the Lab’s library.

The other person was at the end of the alley, their back to the wall and gaze averted. They were a therian wearing a clerical vestment under tattered cloth and covered in bandages dyed in rusty blood. Only one eye, which was an oddly clear blue color, was visible. They looked like a mummy priest.

A detective and a mummy… One shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but there is a 99% chance the mummy is the shady individual here.

Matoi was on a quest to save the future from destruction; she could not waste time.

Her cutting-edge magiroid core—her idea circuit—gave her the rational option: to not intervene. To turn around, pretend she saw nothing, and prioritize her quest.

This conflict can’t be related to my quest. And yet…

Her Hero self, her design, her artificial spirit training overrode her idea circuit’s rationality. Her sense of justice was sometimes irrational.

So she spoke out. She let them know a Hero of justice who helped the weak was there.

“Wai—”

Yet her voice was interrupted by another:

“Hold it there!”

It was a muffled, mechanical voice. Not Matoi’s, not the half-therian’s, and not the mummy priest’s.

Someone descended in the middle of the back alley, protecting the half-therian woman from the mummy priest.

“I heard a woman’s voice in a back alley and smelled evil afoot. Thankfully I arrived in time. The great Zenol is here to put a stop to all misdee— Wait, this mummy is Emilia?!”

The mummy priestess came to a halt, and the half-therian looked at her.

“You saved me the trouble of looking for you. I forget if it was a huge rule violation or whatever, but I was called to take you down. Me, the hit man! It’s tragic being so low in the hierarchy.”

The speaker calling himself Zenol wore a fifth-gen mini magi-gear; black armor covered his whole body, and he had a giant sword in his hand.

Zenol scratched his—the MG’s—head.

“Hmm? Should I not have called you Emilia…? Would you prefer Priestess…? No, no, that won’t be an issue, since you’re probably excommunicated, and I’d rather not reread the rulebook right now. So… You, woman over there,” Zenol called to Matoi. “This is gonna get dicey. Although I guess you should’ve known from just looking at her.”

“Huh?” Matoi said, confused. “No, I…”

Honestly, she had no idea what to make of the weirdo gathering.

The mummy priestess Emilia fixed her bare, strangely blue eye on Matoi and curved her mouth into a smile.

“Ohh… Ohh!” Emilia covered her face with her giant hand and looked up at the sky. “Ohh! You! You! It’s you! I saw it! Forget about a billion, trillion, quadrillion, quintillion! This is one in a googolplex! The trigger is here! Ohh, my daughter was a success!”

Her lunatic screams of elation echoed through the back alley.

“I saw it! I glimpsed it! I witnessed it! Of course! How could I have seen it if it wasn’t real?! Our hope from beyond! Our final piece!”

The volume of her voice grew with every word.

“The black wind! My daughter! The dragon! The last Hero! The extinguishers of the fire of destruction! What a godsend! Salvation has descended upon us! That is why I must see, I must watch, I must observe, I must witness more precisely, more accurately, more properly! For my mission! To avoid the eschaton! No more need for sight or fright or blight or dight or plight! Wait, no, I do need my sight.”

Judging from Emilia’s appearance and behavior, Matoi concluded: According to my analysis, there’s a 100% chance she’s a shady individual!

“Whoa, this woman is hysterical…,” Zenol grumbled wearily.

Matoi clenched her teeth at the fact her functions weren’t restored, as she was dying to measure the causality interference of these three people—mainly the shady mummy.

The current priority was getting the half-therian woman away from the psycho. The MG pilot was a mystery, but Matoi determined he wasn’t an enemy at the moment.

Matoi was about to run to the woman’s rescue when she was interrupted by Emilia.

“But this is not the divergence point. Let us watch again…my cohort from the future.”

Her voice was now contrastingly calm, sagacious, and intellectual.

?! How did she know I came from the future?!

Matoi’s idea circuit momentarily ceased processing from the surprise.

Emilia turned around, and a magic circle appeared at her feet. Matoi saw the back of her vestment, which was marked with…

…A golden dragon holding a silver sword…the Guild’s emblem…!

Then Emilia’s form wavered in midair and disappeared. Matoi’s sensors detected teleportation.

And that’s an old type of Swampman… Is she a Hero from the Guild…?

“She could still teleport? Hey, you two! I don’t care what relationship you have with that lady, but don’t stick your nose where it don’t belong! And stop walking around alone—it’s dangerous! And brush your teeth! Bye!”

Zenol leaped to the building’s rooftop and vanished. Only two were left behind.

“She got away…just when I finally found her.” The half-therian woman sighed with as much relief as regret. “…But what do I do now…? Facing her alone was too reckless.”

She looked down and pondered before noticing Matoi’s presence and raising her head.

“Erm, you there, did you come here to help me?” she asked.

“Affirmative. Although it seems I wasn’t needed.”

“It’s the thought that counts. Thanks. I wish I could thank the other guy, too… Oh well.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yeah, don’t worry.”

“Good to hear.”

The half-therian twitched her fox ears and wagged her tail as she bid Matoi farewell and walked right past her.

Matoi felt a slight disruption in her idea circuit and stopped the woman before her processing was complete.

“Excuse me…!”

“Mm? What is it?”

“…No, it’s nothing.”

“Hmm? Are you hitting on me? Well, since you saved me, I could join you for a cup of tea, but I’m meeting someone at my office, so it would have to be after that.”

“Negative! That’s not what I meant! If anything, I should be the one getting hit on! I am very cute, as you can see!” Matoi made a sideways V-sign.

“Mm? So you’re asking me to hit on you? And what’s with that pose?”

“It’s the newest cutesy pose fifty years in the future. If you’ll excuse me, I have an important mission to attend to. Good-bye.”

Matoi turned her back on the woman, but something still felt off.

“Hee-hee, what a weird girl.”

The woman’s words reached Matoi’s audio element.

Month of the Gryphon, Day 2, 2099 FE, 10:03

The timeworn building was on a corner of the many little paths through Shinjuku’s Kabukicho Street.

Veltol had come alone to a room on the second floor. The door’s window read Chabatake Detective Agency in Japanese. The glass facing the street had the same thing written on it with tape; there was no mistaking it.

“So this is the detective agency Takahashi mentioned… I hear this detective is quite skilled.”

He was there to request help investigating the Collector running amok in Shinjuku so he could obtain intel on the Guild.

The door had no bell or intercom. He knocked a few times but got no response.

“Takahashi said the detective would be here at this time…”

Veltol grabbed the doorknob and turned it.

“Hmm?”

It was unlocked.

“Excuse me!”

He pushed the door open, revealing the dark interior. The only light came from Shinjuku’s aether neon signs, their faint glow streaming in through the windows.

The office was littered with junk and mechanical clocks. Although that was no mess compared to the unfinished cold pizza and flat soda at the end of the desk or the beer bottles and clothing all over the floor.

“…I am no expert when it comes to detective work, but is orderliness not a factor in doing a good job?”

Veltol gave the underwear on the couch backrest a sour stare. He thought he ought to award Machina a prize for keeping his “castle” clean while he streamed. Although Sihlwald was making a mess of the place lately.

The one thing that caught Veltol’s attention amid this chaos was an old gaming console in the corner.

What games does it have? I’m curious…

Next to it, by the work desk and lounge chair in the back of the room, was a door to another room. The text on the desk’s papers caught Veltol’s eye.

“List of victims of the magi-eye owner murders…?”

The document had notes next to people’s pictures.

Eva Brown: Human, 27F, London, one eye, Clairvoyance Tier C, A

U Uruk: Orc, 34M, Marseille, two eyes, Detection Tier E, D

Stim Rada: Elf, 223F, Aselun, two eyes, Aid Tier F, D

Vaulong Throat: Dwarf, 55M, Shanghai, one eye, Dissection Tier B, D

Tenryuusai Ishida: Human, 12M, Hakata, one eye, Petrification Tier A, D

“What is this…?”

Then the door by the desk opened.

“Hmm?”

“Mm.”

A beautiful half-therian woman with long, golden hair emerged. Her skin was flush and her tail was damp; she must’ve been taking a shower. Based on her ears and tail, she was a fox half-therian.

And she was stark naked.

Correction: She was wearing panties.

“Oh, sorry to receive you like this,” she said.

Completely unbothered, she hung her bath towel around her neck and dried her hair.

“No, I apologize for my impropriety,” Veltol replied. He was similarly unmoved.

A woman who showed no reaction to being seen nude and a man who had little reaction to seeing a nude woman—certainly not the setup for a romcom meet-cute.

“You’re the detective at this agency, yes?”

“That’s right. But hey, you don’t have anything to say after seeing me naked?”

“Oh, forgive me. Indeed, it is discourteous for you to be the only one unclothed.”

“…?”

Veltol removed his tracksuit jacket, then grabbed the hem of his Demon Lord T-shirt and pulled it off.

His beautiful, well-toned abdomen was laid bare.

Veltol brushed his long black hair from his shoulders.

“I can take off more if you would prefer.”

“Ha-ha-ha! No, that’ll be fine. You’ve got a nice body, but there’s no need to undress. Put your clothes back on.”

“I see…” Visibly disappointed, Veltol did as the woman suggested.

Still half-naked, the woman chuckled and sat down on the lounge chair. She gave the pizza on the table a glance.

“Want some pizza?” she offered.

“No, thank you.”

“Okay.”

She grabbed the crust of a cold, limp slice, lifted it up, and dropped the entire thing into her mouth. She then washed it down with a gulp of flat soda and grabbed an electronic smoking pipe from her desk.

“I was just back from meeting a murderer and had to take a shower. I knew I had a client coming, and I didn’t want to meet them while still dirty.”

“Yet you don’t mind meeting them half-naked?”

“Heh. A feast for your eyes, was it not? I am aware of my charm; I don’t keep it all to myself.”

“Ha. Then I shall respond in kind by sharing some charm of my own.”

“No, you already undressed. Stay like that and take a seat wherever.”

Veltol let go of his shirt hem with a bummed look on his face and sat down on the couch.

“I haven’t introduced myself. Emi Chabatake, age twenty-four, single. My profession: a normal detective on paper. My hobbies include tinkering with machinery, and my favorite foods are pizza and diet soda.”

“I—”

“Hold it.” Emi stretched out her hand to stop Veltol. “I’m a detective. Allow me to uncover your identity.”

“Interesting. Go on.”

“Although unfortunately, Bunny Bones already told me the streamer Veltol would be coming.”

Bunny Bones was the handle Veltol’s friend and aether hacker, Takahashi, used online.

“I explicitly asked her not to send me a picture, though. I enjoy the eureka moment of a first impression. I’m afraid I haven’t seen your streams, but your tall figure, good looks and voice, and long black hair match those of the historical Demon Lord.”

Emi softly pointed at Veltol.

“But that is only natural, for you are the same Demon Lord Veltol who tried to conquer Alnaeth five hundred years ago.”

The Demon Lord breathed a sigh, impressed. “Precisely. I am Veltol Velvet Velsvalt, the Immortal King. This is the first time since I’ve arrived in this era that a stranger has been able to uncover my identity.”

“Oh, I didn’t think you’d acknowledge it that easily.”

“I am not hiding it to begin with. Moreover, my gut tells me it is meaningless to pull a shallow trick on you. For reference, why did you think I was the real Demon Lord?”

“I’m friends with Bunny Bones. It’s the natural conclusion if you pay attention to her activity.”

Emi cleared her throat.

“IHMI’s CEO, Marcus, had been suspected of being an immortal for a long time. Granted, it was only fishy conspiracies on the aethernet. Right after you got a name for yourself on the net, you hacked the holodisplays all over Shinjuku. Clearly Bunny Bones’s work. Around the same time, the IHMI CEO resigned out of the blue. Then Bunny Bones transferred to a school in Akihabara, and people on the aethernet reported sightings of someone matching your description over there.”

Emi took a breath.

“Then came the collapse of Yokohama. Bunny Bones went to Goar, which is on the opposite coast. She brought me a souvenir. Then she introduced me to you, and that’s how I deduced that you two are directly connected—that you were involved with the resignation of IHMI’s CEO. You speak in an old elvish dialect, you don’t have a Familia, and then there’s your looks and the way you carry yourself… With all this in mind, I concluded that you are not someone using the Demon Lord’s name, but the man himself.”

“Now I see why Takahashi got me in touch with you.”

Veltol was genuinely surprised by Emi’s sharp insight, being able to deduce all that from so few hints.

“That said,” she added, “I thought the Hero Gram had eliminated you.”

“He did. But I have conquered even annihilation. After five hundred years, I was resurrected in this era—I am invincible.”

“Mm-hmm. Invincible, eh…? Anyway, Bunny Bones didn’t give me the lowdown. What brings you to the Chabatake Detective Agency? I take on everything, from looking for a lost cat to solving closed-circle murders… But I have a few cases on my plate. I can’t accept any new jobs until they’ve been solved.”

“So you’re busy at the moment.” Veltol rubbed his chin in thought for a moment before raising his head. “Are there any other detectives in this agency?”

“No, I run it by myself.”

“No helpers?”

“None at all.”

“Heh-heh.”

“Hmm?”

“Hwa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Then it is quite simple! I am so smart! Sharp as a tack, just like a detective!”

“Wh-what’s this about…?” Emi wondered why Veltol was so excited all of a sudden. “Ah! You mean…!”

“It seems you’ve noticed, Great Detective!”

Veltol brushed his hair back.

“Rejoice! Demon Lord Veltol Velvet Velsvalt shall lead your cases to resolution!”

He then reached his hand out and loudly declared:

“With an immortal body and an invincible soul—Demon Lord Detective Veltol is on the scene!”

Month of the Gryphon, Day 2, 2099 FE, 15:00

Matoi was at the elevated loop line near Outer Shinjuku.

She was hungry. Magiroids normally had no concept of hunger, yet Matoi had special functions that allowed her to run her mana efficiently by ingesting nutrients—in other words, eating.

After the ingested food was broken down, her mana efficiency greatly dropped, which affected her idea circuit’s processing. A sensor installed in her midsection shrank after digestion, alerting her of “hunger.”

Basically, she was weak when hungry and energetic after eating. Even though she was a machine.

She hadn’t replenished her reserves enough before the time travel, and after some walking around, she needed food.

Can’t fight on an empty stomach. Mishaps could occur if I enter combat like this.

As her idea circuit produced such thoughts, the odd stench of Shinjuku she had perceived since her arrival mixed with what would be considered a statistically pleasant smell. Her odor sensor was sensitive from the hunger, and her lowered processing power allowed her subconscious to lead her to the source of the smell.

The smell of food took over the hungry girl’s mind.

She reached what appeared to be a restaurant and opened the old wooden door, making the entrance bell ring. The place was small; there were two tables for two, four seats at the counter, and stairs at the back. Music played in the background. Matoi did not indulge in audio, but the song entering her sensors was pleasant.

The restaurant was almost full; there was only one counter seat open. The two canine therians wearing flat caps on the seats by the entrance glanced at Matoi before looking away immediately. Behind the counter, a middle-aged ogre stirred a frying pan.

The place was quiet, but the clientele was objectively not welcoming. Neither the therians nor the ogre cook looked like decent people.

Everyone here is crass…statistically speaking.

After a few hours of investigation, Matoi had learned there was a difference in public safety between the inside and outside of the loop line. Neither was safe at all, but there was a sort of order to the lack of safety on the inside; the outside, meanwhile, was unruly. Matoi theorized it had something to do with the population density.

This restaurant seemed to be preferred by crooks, as it was near the outside of the loop line. Nonetheless, Matoi sat down at the open seat by the counter.

Then…

“Hey, li’l lady.”

…the orc next to her called her attention. He had a big scar on his face and an intimidating air.

“This is no place for gals like you.”

“Huh?”

Matoi knew what was going to happen. She had witnessed the following scene in a film in the White House’s recreation room. The weak-looking new face—in other words, Matoi herself—arrived at a bar full of ruffians, and they picked a fight.

Matoi began anticipating how she would counter the first attack when the orc spoke again.

“They opened a new spot on the second floor just recently. You can see the chef’s huge, and it’s cramped down here. Bet you’ll find it more comfortable upstairs.” He pointed at the staircase with his thumb.

“Thank you…”

Matoi was slightly disappointed by the orc’s unexpected response. Dumbfounded, she bowed her head and got out of her seat.

She headed upstairs to where the orc had indicated. As she climbed the narrow staircase, a thought occurred to her. It was entirely possible that the upstairs was an even more dreadful cesspool of crime. Maybe he sent her there as a trap. Yes, that had to be it.

Her idea circuit was running at full speed. Matoi was ready to fight. Alert for any surprise attack.

She made it to the second floor. It was quite spacious compared to the first floor.

There were a few tables populated with men who looked just as rough as the ones downstairs.

“Heh-heh-heh…”

“Hyee-hyee-hyee…”

They snickered while looking at Matoi from afar. She was clearly out of place in this spot crawling with thugs.

“Welcome home, master— No, no, that’s not the kind of place this is. It’s a regular diner. Force of habit… Come on in! Sit wherever you’d like!”

Matoi was shown in by a half-elf waitress who had long blond pigtails and heterochromic scarlet and golden eyes. The girl wore a nameplate on her chest reading YAMADA and a short maid dress.

Impressively cute breastplate area. Should someone like her be working in a place like this without any armor? Wait—have I seen her somewhere before…?

Matoi cross-referenced the girl’s physical characteristics with her own memory storage, but then there was a momentary crackle of static. It was the same static she’d felt in the Bunker’s hallway in 2149 FE, but she couldn’t remember anything about it.

No results came back.

Matoi didn’t know anyone in this time period, and she deduced that the déjà vu she’d recently experienced must have been a side effect of time travel.

Matoi sat at the table by the window. That way, she could flee at any time. It was also a risky spot due to potential snipers, but she could take care of that. Her priority was ease of escape.

The restaurant clientele’s voices reached her audio receivers.

“Did you hear? Something happened again at the Roost.”

“Things happen in this city all the time. And what’s this Roost?”

“You don’t know?! The underground city!”

“Had no idea. So what happened down there?”

“A streamer exploring the ruins disappeared.”

Matoi looked down at her table. The menu was there, and as she stared at it, the waitress came to take her order.

“What would you like?”

“Hot milk and fries, please.”

Matoi pointed at the items on the menu. She used to have both frequently in Washington.

“Got it! Your food will be here soon.”

The waitress smiled and went downstairs.

Once she was gone, the dwarf and ogre at the nearby table grinned.

“Heh-heh-heh… Didja hear that?”

“Hyee-hyee-hyee… How could I not?”

“Heh-heh-heh… Milk.”

“Hyee-hyee-hyee… Milk…”

Matoi knew what was going to happen. She had witnessed the following scene in a film in the White House’s recreation room. The two men would say something like “Gah-ha-ha-ha! She wants milk!” and “Why don’tcha go home and suck on mommy’s tits?” and after some quarreling, they would end up fighting.

Matoi began anticipating how she would counter the first attack when the dwarf and the ogre spoke again.

“Heh-heh-heh… You know the good stuff, girly. They serve organic milk here.”

“Hyee-hyee-hyee… Not only is milk tasty, but it’s nutritious, too. Excellent choice…”

“Heh-heh-heh… Never see a girl this cute comin’ all the way out to a joint in the boonies. Can’t help but talk to ya.”

“Hyee-hyee-hyee… Lotsa shady characters around here near Outer Shinjuku. Gets real dangerous. Better take care of yourself, li’l lady…”

Looks like they might not be bad people…

Matoi felt ashamed for judging these complete strangers.

The waitress returned and furrowed her brow. “Could you please not bother the other customers?” she said to the two men.

“Heh-heh-heh… Hizuki’s mad.”

“Hyee-hyee-hyee… Sorry, sorry. Can we bother you instead, then?”

“I will punch you, you know.”

Hizuki wore an angry smile, but her voice remained adorable.

“Sorry about our regulars…,” she said as she placed the tray with Matoi’s order on the table.

“No, it’s fine.”

Matoi took a sip of her hot milk. Unlike the powdered milk from Washington, this had a rich smell that stimulated her odor sensors.

“…”

Hizuki stared at the back of Matoi’s head.

“Is there something amiss about me? I apologize if my cuteness enraptured you,” Matoi said, flashing her pioneering cutesy pose.

Hizuki tilted her head in confusion. “What’s that gesture?”

“The newest in cute poses fifty years in the future.”

“Okay… Ummm, by the way, I see you don’t have a Familia. Will you be able to pay for your meal?”

“…? Question. What do you mean?”

Hizuki reacted with embarrassment. “…Oh! Never mind! I’m sorry! That was rude of me! Of course there are other payment methods! Forgive me. It’s just, I know this one dragon who dines and dashes, and I just assumed…”

Matoi ran some calculations while gazing at the top of Hizuki’s bowed head.

Matoi was not wearing a Familia. This implantable magic assistance device existed in the year 2149, but it wasn’t like its multifunctional, computer-adjacent counterpart of this era. The Familias of the future were specialized for combat and had all unnecessary features removed.

Familias in 2149 were retrograded to the original prototype. In Matoi’s case, she had an idea circuit for combat assistance instead of a Familia.

Matoi went through all the data of this age regarding the economy, payment systems, Familias, restaurants, and money until she reached one conclusion.

“Ah.”

An unprecedented chill ran down her spine.

Matoi realized something: Shinjuku’s economy relied on digital currency. Washington, having few resources, used a ticket system, which Matoi, as a member of the Hero Corps, did not need.

Sh-shoot! My idea circuit wasn’t processing properly from the hunger, and I forgot to include the current era’s economic system in my calculations!

“Umm… Do you not have cash on you…?” Hizuki asked.

“Affirmative… I’m sorry. I don’t have any money…”

She glanced at the window. Running away would be easy, but a Hero should not dine and dash. But she couldn’t get arrested, either.

She spurred her idea circuit to find a peaceful solution harder than when she’d fought the Duchess of Weal and Woe.

In this comic I once read in the recreation room, they washed dishes when they were short on money. But I don’t have time to waste on that, not to mention I have no dishwashing functions, although I’m sure I could manage, but I don’t have the experience, and what in the world am I thinking?

The high-level processor of the future led the latest model of artificial spirit—the OrAcle—to one solution.

“Umm… Could you please let me off the hook if I do this…?” Matoi asked.

“Uh, do what?”

Matoi raised two fingers, turned them to the side, held them up to her face, and opened them while sliding them in front of her eyes, all while keeping a straight face.

“…What do you say…?”

“About what?”

“Aren’t I…cute?”

“Huh? Well, yeah, sure…”

“So…we’re even…?”

“I will punch you!”

“Of course!”

Matoi’s payment in cuteness was clearly rejected. Did she have no choice but to wash dishes?

Hizuki slumped down into the chair opposite her. “Don’t worry; I’ll cover you this time.”

“Huh?!”

“I’ll pay for your milk and fries.”

“Why…?”

“Because…you’re funny?”

“Thank you. I can’t believe you really spared me because I’m so cute…”

“Hey, you…! Ahh, whatever. You’re off the hook for being cute. The fries are nice and salty today.” Hizuki grabbed a fry and threw it into her mouth.

“Howdy-do!”

A new customer came upstairs and waved at Hizuki. She wore a dwarven jacket, a qipao, and round sunglasses on top of her black hair, which had a tuft of red. A striking appearance, but not one Matoi remembered.

“Takahashi… I told you not to come to my workplace…”

“But I’m a regular here! Hey, that your friend?”

“Nope. She’s just a broke customer who tried to pay for her meal with a cutesy pose.”

“Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! That’s so funny. You okay, girl? Want me to pay for you?”

“Do not worry,” said Matoi. “She’s already paying for me. I appreciate your kindness.”

“Huh. Hey, I’m blondie here’s friend. The name’s Takahashi. Howdy-do!”

“Howdy…do…?”

Takahashi sat down nearby.

“Wait. Bunny…?”

The word came out of Matoi’s mouth unconsciously. She had no idea why.

Takahashi raised an eyebrow. “Hm? Whazzat?”

“No, nothing…”

“’Kay. Hizuki, gimme some Neapolitan pasta and a melon soda. And make it quick. I’m starving.”

“Huh? Go get it yourself.”

“But I’m a customer!”

“I’ll go later.”

“But I’m hungry!”

“Actually, Takahashi, how about you finally clean up your room instead?”

“Why don’t you clean it?!”

“Why would I have to clean your room? Do it yourself…”

“’Cause I’m letting you crash at my place?”

“You should at least pick up all the underwear scattered across your room…”

“Hey, you leave your bras all over the place, too, sometimes! And they’re huge! And sexy!”

“Waaah! No, you—! Idiot! Keep your voice down!”

“Not like you’ve got anyone to show your sexy lingerie anyway! Lemme fondle those titties instead!”

“I’m never cooking for you again…”

“Ahh! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I was just kidding!”

“Sheesh… Oh, by the way, we’re running out of soy sauce, so grab some on the way home.”

“A’ight. When’re you clockin’ out?”

“Mmm? In a little bit.”

“Cool, then let’s go visit Machina and Sihlsy. They’re already on the move.”

“Okay.”

Matoi was hit with déjà vu. She had the feeling she’d seen Takahashi and Hizuki before. She shook her head to get rid of it.

“So, hey, where’re you from?” Takahashi asked Matoi innocently.

“Washington.”

“Washington?! Wow-wee, that’s pretty out there.”

“Ooh, I’ve never been,” said Hizuki. “Have you, Takahashi?”

“No way! So how’d you get here?”

“With a time machine,” said Matoi.

An honest reply came out of her. But she didn’t mind. Her sincerity was part of her charm.

“Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha! That’s awesome!”

“Makes sense you don’t have any money,” said Hizuki.

Matoi grabbed a fry while she watched the two girls laugh.

Chatting with them was fun, but she had a job to do: Gather intel.

She knew too little. The best course of action was to probe for info on the Eschaton Demon Lord Veltol, who had the highest probability of affecting the future’s causality.

“Umm, excuse me,” said Matoi.

“Hmm? Whassup?”

“Do you happen to know somebody called Veltol?”

Takahashi and Hizuki froze for a fraction of a section when Matoi said that name.

“Yeah, that guy’s famous. He’s, like, the hottest streamer of the moment! I watch his stuff pretty often.”

“Huh? Buh?! O-of course I know who he is. Yeah? Mm-hmm.”

Unlike Takahashi, Hizuki was not a good liar.

Matoi had seen in the reference room’s database that there was a popular streamer by the name Veltol, but there was no proof he was the same person as the Veltol she was looking for.

I’m sure it’s most likely he isn’t.

“Oh, you’re a fan?” Takahashi asked uncomfortably.

Matoi ran her idea circuit at full speed to come up with a reply.

The procurement of intel depended on her answer. Judging from Hizuki’s reaction, the two girls probably knew something.

Of the many options available, Matoi’s democratic verdict mechanism chose the one with the highest chance of success.

“Affirmative. I am a fan of Veltol. I would love to meet him. Do you happen to know how to get a hold of him?”

“Sorry, no idea!”

Matoi did not realize she’d made the worst choice.

Takahashi had considered the possibility that Matoi was looking for the Demon Lord Veltol. But that aside, she would never sell the livestreamer Veltol’s info to any of his fans.

Matoi could not have possibly known that.

Either thanks to the fries and milk or enough time having passed, a system message popped up in Matoi’s vision.

Now I can finally begin my investigation in full.

As a test, she tried scanning the two girls in front of her while grabbing a salty fry.

They had no influence on the future’s divergence. The feeling she had just then must’ve come from a failure of her system or an irregularity in her idea circuit. That was her conclusion.

She chatted with the girls for a while, until the clock in the corner of her eye marked 15:17.

“I’m sorry, but I must go. Thank you for the milk and fries.”

“Ah, don’t worry. Just bring some money next time, okay?”

“See ya! C’mon, Hizuki, let’s go meet up with Machina.”

“Give me a minute! I’m almost done.”

Matoi said good-bye and went downstairs. She opened the door and stepped outside. The warmth of the restaurant made the cold outside hit harder.

“I must look for Veltol and someone with a high causality interference value… I have little time, but a straightforward survey is the best choice. The time machine brought me to this city because the person who will change the future must be here.”

She booted up a program while looking at the people walking by.

“I guess it won’t be that easy.”

She started to head downtown, thinking it would be easier to look somewhere more crowded, when she saw two people walking toward her.

One of them was a fox half-therian.

“That woman… That’s the detective I saw earlier in that back alley. What a surprise to come across her again… Coincidences do happen even in big cities.”

The other was a man with long, black hair.

“That man I have no memory of. Perhaps they met at her office.”

The two looked at Matoi.

Their eyes met.

Matoi focused on the half-therian.

Of course, Matoi thought.

But the next moment, her system rang an alert.

“…Huh?” Her idea circuit froze for a second. “That can’t be. This woman I just met can change the future? That’s too big a coincidence… Maybe the system is still buggy…”

Matoi ran a scan just in case, and the program was running correctly. There was no bug.

Then she looked at the man with black hair.

That clinched it. The man was an immortal, and the woman was involved in a causality.

The two were together. And the half-therian didn’t look like a villain out to destroy the world.

Matoi did not think, did not hesitate, did not falter—she ran toward the pair.

“Gulagalad, activate!”

The mythical performance armament in her left arm glowed green.

Then the Hero roared:

“Time to change the future…!”

Month of the Gryphon, Day 2, 2099 FE, 15:00

Veltol and Emi walked down the street by the elevated loop line on the border of Outer Shinjuku. They had just solved Emi’s pending case.

“That’s one down… Heh, I truly am a gifted detective,” said Veltol. “And the part where you said shall give you the answers? Unbelievably cool.”

“Right? It is my favorite Great Detective line. By the way, my trusty assistant—quite admirable of you to start by lending me a hand.”

“Heh. I scratch your back, you scratch mine. And putting in the effort is always important to get good results, even when your talents are so self-evident.”

“Hee-hee. I admit you were a great help to getting the case solved.”

“…I did not expect to come across a second case in the middle of investigating an infidelity.”

The outline of the case was as follows: A CEO suspected his wife of cheating on him, so Emi and Veltol headed to the couple’s house at the man’s request. The CEO, his wife, and the suspected adulterer were gathered there. After some questioning, the client went to take a bath; a little while later, a loud noise came from the bathroom. Veltol broke down the bathroom’s locked door and found the client bleeding from his head. Screams, yells, and chaos followed.

Love and hate swirled in a messy vortex. Was the wife cheating on him? Was she faithful? Where would the case lead? So began the locked-room mystery with a total of six suspects—including Veltol and Emi!

“Although the perpetrator was just the client’s pet slime seeping through the vent and making him slip,” said Emi.

“You can hardly call an accident a case, eh? Initial reactions were greatly exaggerated.”

“Too bad the job was called off after the client woke up suffering from amnesia and age regression from the blow to his head…”

“And the wife was most certainly guilty, considering how she pumped her fist once she found out about the amnesia…”

“A shame we didn’t get to taste the dinner…”

Emi’s belly growled.

“Assistant.” She tugged on the hem of Veltol’s coat.

“What is it?”

“Try deducing what I’m thinking now.”

“Ha. Elemental. The sound of your stomach, the scent of soup: You are hungry. There’s a good udon place nearby. Shall we go there?”

“A Great Assistant for a Great Detective!”

They arrived at a small udon stand adorned with red curtains and lamps. The same place where Veltol had once shared a meal with the Hero Gram.

“Wow, I’ve never been to an udon stand.”

“It has both the Demon Lord’s and the Hero’s seals of approval. You will not be disappointed.”

They ducked under the curtains and sat down.

“Welcome,” said the cook.

“One tanuki,” Veltol said.

“Same for me,” Emi added.

“A’ight.”

“Tanuki, huh…?” Veltol muttered as he wiped his hands with a moist towel.

“Hmm? Is there something about tanuki udon, my assistant?”

“No, no. Did you know about the origin of the name? I shall tell you.”

“Huh? Okay, tell me, please.”

“Long ago, in a country called Japan, which was located on this same land, a shapeshifting mystical beast known as the tanuki went on a rampage in Kyoto-Fushimi. A legendary warrior by the name of Tota Tawara slayed the beast with the fabled Tonbokiri spear and cooked its remains, which he used to garnish udon. This was the beginning of tanuki udon. It is a most grand and heroic tale. I know this history thanks to the action game TOKIRO, which was based on real events.”

“I heard magic didn’t exist on Earth before the Fantasion. But the tanuki could use it?”

“That is the most fantastical thing about it…a creature with the impossible power to mimic other beings’ appearances. Truly an exquisite figure among mythical beasts. No wonder they are as popular as dragons. Machina owns a lot of tanuki merchandise.”

Two udon bowls were placed on the counter before them.

“Two tanuki. Enjoy,” said the cook.

The broth’s aroma stimulated their noses.

“Excuse me, dear assistant.” Emi looked up at Veltol and touched the tips of her pointed index fingers together.

“Yes?”

“A Great Detective doesn’t obtain great money even by solving great cases.”

“Hmm?”

“And I have many expenses…”

“Oh, I understand. This is my treat. That was my intention from the very beginning. Don’t worry.”

“Yay! That’s my Great Assistant.”

“Why do you work as a detective, Emi?”

“I wasn’t always a detective, nor did I want desperately to become one… Well, I kind of did, but that was a vague childhood dream. I didn’t have it in my life plans once I grew up.” Emi split her chopsticks in two. “I used to work at Technoram.”

“Oh, Technoram? You certainly can’t judge a book by its cover, eh?”

Technoram was one of the Greatest Six, the biggest corporations, which included IHMI and MAGTEC in their ranks. They mainly worked on the design and development of artificial spirits and the production of astral conductors.

Veltol had failed to get a job after being resurrected from his five-hundred-year slumber, so from his point of view, the simple fact that Emi was employed made her an object of jealousy and respect. But his admiration trumped those emotions, since this was a big, well-known company.

“Surprised?” Emi asked.

“I was joking. I know your intelligence.”

“Hee-hee. I was recruited when I was still a student, and I worked in the development division for a short time. Mainly developing artificial spirits.”

“And you quit Technoram to become a detective? Why?”

Emi paused briefly before responding:

“My father was murdered.”

A moment of silence. The only sound to break it was the slurping of udon.

Veltol waited for Emi to speak.

“My father worked for Technoram, too. He was chief of technical development. One day three years ago, he was killed on his way home.”

“A mugger? Someone with a grudge? A power struggle?”

“No.” Emi shook her head. “He had plenty of enemies due to his important post at the company, but it wasn’t that. I know who did it.”

“The murderer collecting magi-eyes in Shinjuku as we speak?”

Emi raised her eyebrows. “Bingo.”

“You had a list of the Collector’s victims in your office. And not just the ones in Shinjuku; you researched all past cases thoroughly. I could tell you are putting great effort into finding the criminal. Elemental, my dear detective.”

“Impressive, my dear assistant.”

“I merely learned from the best Great Detective there is.”

Emi giggled.

“Three years ago, in London, my father became the first victim. Both his eyes were magic, and they took them both. By the way, I inherited one of his magi-eyes, although it’s quite weak; I can only see the flow of mana in the air.” Emi pointed at her eye. “I quit the day he was murdered and I started pursuing the Collector. But moving from city to city searching for the culprit was expensive. I ran out of savings and began doing some vague detective work to make a little money until I got enough clients that I started my own agency.”

Emi spoke easily of it, but it was an arduous path.

“Calling myself a detective made it easier to get intel and made me money. Two birds with one stone.”

“So today’s case was part of that.”

“Yeah. I need the money to move from place to place and investigate. Being a detective isn’t my main goal.”

“You haven’t asked the City Guard for help?”

“Of course I have. But the Collector moves from place to place, and getting the City Guards to share intel with each other isn’t easy. And there are many kinds of City Guards—some are only civilian efforts. Not to mention the corruption and bureaucracy. In the end, it’s easier for me to investigate on my own.”

“Are you pursuing the Collector for revenge?”

“No.” Emi smiled in self-derision. “I only want to know why my father had to die. I don’t intend to do anything to the Collector.”

She paused briefly.

“The Collector is my mother, after all.”

Only broth remained in their bowls.

“Your mother killed your father…?”

“Her name is Emilia Chabatake. My parents got divorced when I was little, but she called from time to time. She was so kind; I still can’t believe she would kill my father.”

“…This makes things easier, though. The truth is, I’ve been meaning to ask you to investigate the Collector and gather intel on an organization known as the Guild.”

“Oh?”

“There is a possibility the Collector might be connected to this organization.”

“I hadn’t heard of the Guild, but if you’re also after the Collector, then I couldn’t ask for better help. Let’s talk about it once we’re back at the office. I’m pretty close to catching her, actually. I almost got her this morning, and I have a guess as to where she’ll appear next.”

“Impressive.”

“I am a Great Detective, after all. Anyway, let’s go back to the agency.”

They said farewell to the udon chef and left.

Veltol remembered that near the udon stand was the restaurant where Machina had introduced him to Takahashi.

“That reminds me, Hizuki works around here…”

“Want to drop by?”

“I’ll just say hello—”

As they spoke, a girl with blond braids came out of the restaurant in question.

“Hey, it’s that girl…,” said Emi.

“You know her?”

“Yeah, I saw her this morning…”

Then…

…their eyes met.

After a brief silence, the girl reacted.

“Gulagalad, activate!”

The copper-colored gauntlet on her left arm glowed green.

She had just taken a step forward when—

“Huh?”

—Emi yelped in surprise, but the girl was already in her face.

Emi could not react, as she wasn’t used to combat, but Veltol responded to the girl’s quick assault and covered Emi.

“I see deduction isn’t the only thing in the job description. I did not peg detective work to be this dangerous!”

She had closed the ten-meter distance in an instant; this was a skilled opponent.

Veltol thought quickly about how to respond.

Her aim is not me, but Emi… Her visible weaponry is the gauntlet on her left arm and this strange mana. Touching her would be unwise. However…

There was no time to arm himself or launch a spell; he had no choice but to counter barehanded.

“Time to change the future…!” the girl screamed as she raised her gauntlet in a fist.

Veltol’s fist and the girl’s gauntlet, which produced glowing green lines on its surface, clashed.

This armor…!

Veltol’s unreinforced fist broke, crushing his skin, flesh, and nerves all the way up his forearm, leaving his fractured radius exposed.

“Dell Ray!”

His power was far from his glory days, due to the lack of faith, but he was nonetheless the immortal Demon Lord.

His nerves, bones, flesh, and skin regenerated in the blink of an eye; his arm recovered its shape, and magic activated within the palm of his outstretched hand.

A black flash crackled between him and the girl. Smoke filled their surroundings, separating Veltol and Emi from their attacker.

“D-did you get her?!” Emi asked.

“No, that had little effect. I don’t understand what’s happening, but things are getting interesting!”

“That’s great that you’re having fun, but we should run!”

“Run? What are you saying? It’s rare to come across a foe this strong!”

Police sirens rang in the distance; they must have noticed the explosion.

“Ummm, this is an order from your Great Detective! The City Guard’s coming—let’s just get out of here! We can’t look for the Collector if they arrest us!”

“Heh. This displeases me, but I cannot disobey an order from the Great Detective!”

“Thank good— Eep!”

Veltol hoisted Emi up. “Let’s borrow that for our escape.”

He headed to the side of the road, where an implausibly unsafe bike-model flying vehicle was parked.

He broke the chains locking it to a streetlamp with a kick and mounted himself and Emi on the bike.

“Umm, my trusty assistant? I just remembered the grotesque blow to your arm. You okay? It doesn’t hurt? I’ve never seen an immortal heal.”

“Not to worry. I sense the loss of my arm, but I hardly recognize it as pain.”

As he spoke, he took a PDA and cable from his coat’s inside pocket. He plugged the cable into the socket on the flying vehicle’s meter and connected it to his PDA.

He tapped the PDA’s screen and booted up the key-breaker software Takahashi had developed. It was one of the many programs she’d periodically installed on Veltol’s PDA.

Emi peered out from behind his back and asked, “What’s that?”

“Latest_Unlocker_ver.122_20990629_Final_3.”

“…I don’t know who made this or what’s in it, but I can tell that this person sucks at naming files…”

The spell code flashed across the screen; Latest_Unlocker_ver.122_20990629_Final_3 cracked the lock and tricked the system into thinking Veltol was the vehicle’s registered user.

The gauges lit up.

“I never thought I’d be stealing a bike as a detective…!”

“Ha-ha-ha! I have played the role of an outlaw swiping bikes and cars in plenty of games! My experience in simulations will get us through. Besides, we can always bring this vehicle back!”

Veltol gripped the throttle.

Naturally, he had no driver’s license or experience using a flying vehicle.

“This is my first time driving in real life, but it appears to be quite simple!”

Flying vehicles were controlled by magic—they were yet another type of magi-gadget.

Veltol’s Sage Eyes allowed him to read the mana flow of what he touched and to understand its effects; he could learn how to handle it with a simple touch.

“Hold on tight! Away we go!”

He revved up the mana engine with a twist of the throttle, and simulated multi-linked chants activated spell after spell, beginning with Flight. The machine lifted off the ground, the muffle thruster lit up and expelled mana, and the vehicle blasted off in the direction in which they’d come, away from the attacker.

At the same time, the attacker cut through the smoke like a speeding bullet.

Her sprint had the highest efficiency biomechanically possible, perfect to the degree of being artistic. She gradually closed the distance between her and the flying vehicle.

“Eep! Assistant! She’s catching up to us! On foot!”

“She’s quite persistent! Very good! This would be no fun otherwise!”

Emi and Veltol were both yelling over the blowing wind.

“She appears to be after you! Any idea why?” Veltol asked.

“I just know her from this morning, when she saved me from a murderer!”

“A life debt! But that is hardly a reason to attack you! Hold on, I’ll increase the speed!”

“Uwaaah! She’s coming, she’s coming! Go faster! But drive safely!”

The flying vehicle accelerated in direct proportion to the force Emi hugged Veltol with, and they left the girl in the dust.

As her silhouette shrank into the distance, she raised her gauntlet-clad hand.

“What is she doing…?” Emi wondered aloud.

The girl snapped her fingers.

The clash of metal against metal followed. Then an abandoned flying vehicle right next to her disassembled itself in the blink of an eye. Its parts methodically spread out all around her before fusing into one shape. It resembled a certain creature that had gone extinct in Alnaeth.

“A centaur?!” Emi exclaimed as she looked back.

The girl’s lower half had turned into four metallic horse legs. Galloping thunderously, she raced to catch up with Veltol and Emi.

“Assistant! We gotta go up to escape her! Up!”

Veltol responded by tilting the vehicle’s center of gravity and pulling it up.

He ignored all the alerts from the vehicle’s navi system and drove expertly—in great contrast to his in-game driving, where he always totaled or exploded the cars. He rose while threading through the other flying vehicles in the skies of Shinjuku.

The city buildings and lights flew right past them.

“This system of driving via flight magic alone is quite interesting!”

“I’ve never ridden something this intense befoooore! At least in the skies we’ll…be…”

Emi and Veltol saw the girl still following them.

She used signs and wiring on the buildings as footholds while advancing through the shortest and fastest route with machinelike precision.

“Eeeeek! Assistant! She’s still in pursuit!”

Sheer building walls were no problem, either; the girl would simply snap her fingers, and the pipes and window edges would morph to provide her with footing.

And it didn’t stop there. The metal surrounding her wrapped around her lower half to provide her with even more legs, like a spider. She transformed into an arachne.

Veltol reflected on what he saw.

That must be…

“It’s the gauntlet’s power!” he shouted. “The mana around her moves when she snaps her fingers!”

Veltol had just heard about Emi’s magi-eye allowing her to see the flow of mana.

“She can control the metal within a two-meter radius. The finger-snapping could either be ritualistic or it might make the metallic sound resonate,” said Emi.

Veltol agreed with her rundown of the gauntlet’s powers.

The one thing he could add was that it had to be either a divine instrument or a magi-gadget of a supreme level, for his Sage Eyes did not let him view the workings of its power even though he’d touched it.

“I thought this same thing when we solved the case earlier—your observation skills are definitely worthy of a detective!” Veltol boomed.

“Hee-hee, keep the praise coming!”

“I will, once we get rid of her…!”

“…Whoa, Assistant, look at that! How is this real?!”

Emi pointed at the girl breaking through an office building, crashing through the ceiling, and bursting through the neighboring building to keep pace with the flying vehicle.

Veltol flew the vehicle even higher until it was above the building, but the girl smashed through another ceiling to reach the roof. She broke through the rooftops’ wire mesh, jumping from building to building in pursuit of Veltol and Emi.

“She just ran through that office and spooked everyone!” Emi yelled.

“Wah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! What a lunatic!”

The girl crossed many buildings and jumped on the steel beams of one still under construction. She dashed over the unstable and narrow beams while creating footing with finger snaps, as though she walked on flat land.

The building under construction was on a corner of the street—a dead end. Yet she snapped her fingers again to raise the steel beams and create a bridge in midair.

She ran straight toward them.

“Oh no, no, no, Assistant! She’s coming!”

“I suppose we cannot escape a battle!”

“No way! Keep running! Go faster!” Emi slapped Veltol’s back incessantly.

“Stop it, you’re destabilizing my driving!”

The girl jumped off the end of the beam. She then snapped her gauntlet’s thumb and middle finger. The sound of metal clashing against metal echoed.

She was still five or six meters away.

We remain beyond her gauntlet’s reach—

Veltol’s train of thought was cut short.

The gauntlet’s output rose to a palpable degree. Veltol carried Emi up and threw himself in the air without thinking.

Then the flying vehicle morphed. The vehicle’s shell and parts turned into wires that wrapped around the seats and wrecked them. Robbed of its ability to fly, the vehicle began free-falling.

Veltol and Emi plunged from the skies of Shinjuku with their ride.

“Myaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

“Shut your mouth if you don’t want to bite your tongue!”

They plummeted toward an abandoned building’s rooftop.

“An Hellun!”

Right before they crashed, Veltol cast a spell to break their fall, and they landed noiselessly.

A few moments later, the water tank on the rooftop was crushed under the weight of the falling girl. She used no magic to break the fall, yet she was unharmed.

She raised a leg and set her fist on her knee to slowly stand up. The girl faced the Demon Lord and the detective under the cloudy sky.

The enemy had caught up to them. They had no place or way to escape.

“Well, Great Detective, what do you do when driven into a corner?” Veltol asked Emi.

“U-uh… Just kick her ass!”

“Heh. Excellent…” Veltol pushed up the brim of his hunting cap. “That is my area of expertise!”

Matoi closed the blinking system messages as she leaped down from the water tank she’d broken with her fall.

During the chase, just before they could escape, part of her system had recovered, extending the reach of Gulagalad. She used her power on the flying vehicle.

Once again, she scanned the two individuals. The results were the same.

The man was an immortal human. The woman was a half-therian with an extremely high chance of being the causality’s source. Yet no matter how many times Matoi looked at her, this woman did not seem like a villain who would push the world down the path of destruction.

But if doom was inevitable while she lived, Matoi had no option but to kill her.

“I thought you were pretty friendly this morning, so what’s going on? Did I do something to upset you?” the woman asked.

Matoi chose not to waste resources processing her quivering banter.

“Hey, don’t ignore me!”

“…Fine,” said Matoi. “What’s the relationship between you two?”

“We are detective and assistant,” the black-haired man answered.

“…Hand that woman over, and I will let you go.”

The fluctuation of the immortal’s causality interference value was concerning, but the priority here was the woman.

“First,” the man began, “I would believe it proper to introduce ourselves, since we’ve just met.”

“…! You’re right!” Matoi nodded.

Doc had taught her manners; one should give their name when meeting someone for the first time.

She raised her voice, presenting her cutest and strongest self to the world.

“My name is Matoi, and I am a member of the Guild… I’ve come from the future as one of the last Heroes of humanity!”

“A Hero from the Guild…? That is a surprise. As is this talk about coming from the future… You’re not one to deal with logic, I see.”

Matoi’s sensors noticed he’d reacted to the word Hero. The furrowing of his brows was slight and brief, but his anger was nonetheless tangible.

“I shall name myself, too. I am the Demon Lord Veltol Velvet Velsvalt.”

Doc’s words replayed in Matoi’s mind.

“There’s a chance he might not be the one you have to defeat.”

Veltol’s value kept fluctuating, while the half-therian’s remained at 100%. She was undeniably a key person in changing the future, and while the immortal calling himself Veltol might not have been the Eschaton Demon Lord based on his value, the uncertainty was no reason not to eliminate him.

Veltol and Matoi spoke at the same time:

“The Guild…”

“Demon Lord Veltol…”

“You have spared me the effort.”

“You spared me the effort.”

The Demon Lord resurrected from five hundred years in the past announced:

“I shall capture you and make you talk.”

The Hero from fifty years into the future announced:

“I’ll destroy you…and change the future!”

Matoi’s priorities shifted.

The half-therian had poor combat skills. Matoi needed to focus her resources on the man.

Past and future clashed in the present.

CHAPTER TWO

Terminal Resistance

Month of the Gryphon, Day 2, 2099 FE, 16:00

What should we do…?

Machina was in the Yakuza Guild office on Kabukicho Street.

The office of the Silver Flame group, under the direct administration of Dragon Flame, was on the top floor of a fifteen-story building.

Comprised mainly of orcs, Silver Flame was one of the many yakuza groups that had emerged from the decline of Logo Brig and Fulmination Gold, who had ruled over Shinjuku. Currently, there was a power struggle surrounding the decline of the Shinjuku Big Two.

“C’mout ’ere, punks! Imma kill all o’ ya!”

“You’re gonna pay for messin’ with Pops!”

“I’m gonna sink ya in the bath!”

The yakuza members’ yells were accompanied by the firing of real and magic guns.

“Eeeeep! We shouldn’t have come in here just for funsies!”

“Just hack us out of this place or something, Takahashi!”

Takahashi’s and Hizuki’s screams bounced around the small room.

A daruma gargoyle was destroyed, a scroll with duty brush-written on it was torn apart, and a short sword enchanted with flame magic behind the boss’s desk had crashed to the floor.

Machina, Sihlwald, Takahashi, and Hizuki had been gathering intel on the Guild—the Salvation Church—when they found themselves in this dilemma.

“Hizuki,” said Machina.

“Wh-what?! Unlike you, bullets can kill us, y’know, so please do something about this already!”

“How did we end up here, again?”

“What do you mean, how? Because Takahashi’s broker said Silver Flame had the info we want, that bastard!”

“Then when we came to the group’s office, they made fun of us, and Sihlsy beat up their boss! It’s not my fault! I’d never seen a yakuza office outside Velly’s Dragon-like streams!”

“You left out a crucial detail there, Takahashi! You provoked the yakuza first!”

“You were egging them on, Hizuki!”

“W-well, they were sexually harassing me! That’s on them!”

In one corner of the room was the orc boss, splayed out on the floor after getting poked by Sihlwald. The four girls endured the gunfire behind the sofa.

“Get out ’ere, punks!”

“Fuckin’ ’ell, we needed Pops to talk to that girl!”

Outside the room were the yakuza raining bullets on them, enraged by having their honor crushed by what seemed to be little girls taking their boss down.

What should we do…? Machina wondered.

It would all be over if she used her full power, but it’d be tough to rein in her strength so as not to maim the attackers. And Sihlwald was quietly staying put next to her, which was concerning. Machina looked at her.

“I’m fed up,” Sihlwald said, getting to her feet. “These pip-squeaks are boring me.”

Magic and lead bullets hit her forehead but left not a scratch on her skin. She was too powerful even to need her immortal regeneration.

“W-w-wait, Lady Sihlwald!” Machina cried.

“We only have Machina to back us up if you leave, Sihlsy!”

“What do you mean you’re bored, Sihlwald?!”

“I’m gonna go play with Veltol. You guys have fun here.”

“Huh?! Lady Sihlwald?!”

“Sihlsy?!”

“Sihlwald?!”

“You’ve got this, girls. Bye.”

She leaned out the window, spread her wings, and jumped off the fifteenth floor.

The yakuza were just as baffled by this. They stopped shooting.

“Gaaah! Fine!” Machina howled.

She activated her mana, and her hair and eyes turned a vivid, fiery red.

“We’re sorryyy!” the yakuza members wailed.

And then the building’s top floor burst into flames.

Month of the Gryphon, Day 2, 2099 FE, 16:00

The scan told Matoi about the man before her eyes.

The data differed from the values and appearance of the fantastical Eschaton Demon Lord, but there was a possibility he could turn out like that in the future. And most importantly, he was an immortal.

I’m concerned about how low the Eschaton Demon Lord Veltol’s causality interference is, as well as the fluctuation in all analyses. However, there is no doubt the True Six Dark Peers are immortal, and the chance he is the real Eschaton Demon Lord is very high if he’s going by the name Veltol.

He wasn’t remotely as cute as Matoi, but the features and balance of this man’s face, taken from statistical and mechanical judgment, marked him as a beautiful specimen. He wore a similar detective getup to what the half-therian woman behind him had on, and that was odd, but people were free to dress as they pleased.

The woman had a causality interference value of 100. She was key in changing the future.

I would understand if the future changed depending on Veltol…but I don’t get how that woman’s existence affects it. The value is too high.

“Emi, stand back.”

Veltol took off his Inverness coat and handed it to the woman he called Emi.

The Paladin, Matoi’s colleague in the Hero Corps, had told her the first move in a battle against an immortal was the most crucial. To strike as soon as they met.

So she struck.

Matoi snapped her fingers, and the pieces of the water tank at her feet rose up and morphed into a spear.

“Gulagalad, switch from drive to full drive.”

Gulagalad’s light changed from green to yellow.

Matoi made a fist with her gauntlet-clad hand and struck the iron spear. There was the sound of metal clashing against metal, and the rusty spear took on a golden color. The color of…

“Orichalcum…! To think I would witness completed alchemy! Perhaps it is no delusion that you came from the future!” Veltol exclaimed with as much elation as surprise.

Gulagalad’s second power, unlocked in full-drive mode, was Golden Metallurgy; Matoi could transform metals under the effects of Metal Rule into other metals. She could transform the base metal of iron into precious or magic metals, or the other way around—it was the ultimate form of alchemy.

“Gulagalad, switch from full drive to overload.”

Gulagalad’s yellow light turned red. It unleashed its third, true power.

“Sacred Forge.”

Matoi gripped the orichalcum spear tightly, and the shrill ring of striking metal echoed.

“Azorede.”

The orichalcum spear transformed. This mere pointy-ended pole warped, wavered, sprouted a sword-like tip, and became lusciously adorned.

“Oh…?! You still have surprises up your—”

Veltol was not able to finish talking.

A red flash ran across Shinjuku from the end of the spear Matoi pointed at the Demon Lord. Behind the light, only heat, wind, and an impact were left.

Veltol’s upper body was blown clean off. His lower half fell limply backward.

“…Assistant…?”

Emi stood anxiously right next to where the flash’s path had been. Meanwhile, Matoi remained en garde.

“Azorede doesn’t have the power to kill an immortal,” she said. “You can get up, Veltol.”

A system message popped up in her visual field: Resurrection reaction detected.

Veltol’s lower half rose as though pulled by strings, and shadowy mist billowed from his wounds as bones, flesh, and skin took human form to restore the upper half of his body.

“Eep! My assistant died a gruesome death and had an equally gruesome resurrection!”

An immortal’s wound regeneration process was mostly standardized, but resurrections varied based on the individual’s immortal factor. Veltol’s immortal factor was unknown—his resurrection process did not match any in Matoi’s memory.

Veltol checked his hand by closing and opening his fingers before grabbing the Inverness coat and covering his bare skin.

“Azorede…the giant-slaying earthbound meteor said to have been brandished by the Hero Rozel during the age of giants and heroes…,” he said. “I had heard its name, but this is the first time I’ve received a blow from it.”

Veltol watched Azorede crumble into dust and vanish in Matoi’s hands.

“Having my head blown off has reminded me. Gulagalad… That is the name of the hammer that belonged to Holk Grayn, the gods’ eldest son and the smithy god himself. Only a divine instrument can manipulate metal, achieve ultimate alchemy, and create mythic weapons.”

“Affirmative. This is the mythic performance armament Gulagalad. The smithy god’s hammer was reforged into a gauntlet. And metal manipulation and transformation are only part of its power.”

The bronze-colored gauntlet glowed with the mana it exuded.

“The data of the armaments created by Holk was saved within the memory of Gulagalad after its production,” Matoi added. “By loading the data in Gulagalad’s memory and using the same material, I can temporarily recreate and use the armament. This is Gulagalad’s third and real power: Sacred Forge.”

“So it’s like loading the save file right after character creation. Which means it does not include the data of the story after, the weapon’s wielders, or its experience.”

“…I don’t understand what you’re talking about, but process it however you would like. I can use the armaments created with Sacred Forge without limits. That means I don’t have to worry about being worthy of a Holy Sword or the cons of a Dark Sword.”

Matoi spoke very casually about it, but this huge power was not something just anyone could use.

All three powers of Gulagalad—Metal Rule, Golden Metallurgy, and Sacred Forge—required atomic levels of precision, and even Metal Rule in drive mode demanded more processing power than a human brain could muster. It was a divine power—a godly force.

Gulagalad’s true power was put into action thanks to the processing capability of the cutting-edge artificial spirit installed within Matoi: the OrAcle.

“My analysis says you now understand that you have no chance of defeating me. Your best course of action would be to resign yourself to your doom. In this age of iron and magic, my abilities are…”

Matoi raised her gauntleted hand.

“…absolute.”

She snapped her fingers.

Matoi had already scanned the materials of the abandoned buildings. All the surrounding construction was her weapon.

The buildings creaked. The rebar and steel frames snaked and shapeshifted into a sword, a spear, and an ax.

“Wh-what is going on…?” Emi uttered in shock and fear.

Matoi touched her weapons.

She turned the sword into adamant and forged it into a Holy Sword that inhibited regeneration and slayed multi-headed snakes. She turned the spear into mithril and forged it into a Dark Spear that turned its prey into salt. She turned the ax into orichalcum and forged it into a Divine Ax that felled cursed trees.

The mythological weapons flew through the skies of Shinjuku and were used and discarded immediately before new ones were created.

“Making mythological armaments disposable, are we? How lavish! Or is it that your save files don’t last long?!” Veltol asked.

Matoi internally admitted he was right.

The duration of Gulagalad’s powers was based on the memory of the metal the gauntlet used—what Matoi called data size. That duration became proportionally shorter between Metal Rule, Golden Metallurgy, and Sacred Forge.

Metals with low data size such as these building materials collapsed right away, but a legendary sword could prolong the usage time of even Sacred Forge.

“Gradschere!”

Veltol produced a black sword of mana and prepared to attack.

“You will perish, Eschaton Demon Lord!”

“Now this is fascinating! Your powers could be considered cheating! I shall have fun finding a way to bring you down!”

Matoi had no way of knowing Veltol had avoided using soul armaments since he first saw Metal Rule.

It was the right move. Even the Demon Lord’s soul armament was subject to Matoi’s godly might once it materialized in the physical world. The fight would be over the moment she had control over his armor. At the same time, refraining from using soul armaments meant Veltol had to fight Matoi’s mythic-level weapons with magic alone. Matoi had an overwhelming advantage.

“This will end here…!” she shouted.

With a snap of Matoi’s fingers, the rebar on the rooftop shot up and transformed into spears. They pierced Veltol’s body and trapped him in place.

“You are due praise for foiling me to this extent,” said Veltol. “However…”

Matoi’s Gulagalad summoned the silver sickle of Ferrueh Merza, an immortal-slaying weapon given to the Hero Rylan by Holk, the smithy god. It was said to have beheaded and slain an immortal giant.

Its blade arced through the air as it approached the Demon Lord’s neck.

“…my sister would not want to be let out of the fun.”

He grinned.

“Ha-ha-ha!”

The skies of Shinjuku echoed with a cackle like the dull sound of something hard being struck.

The sickle’s blade charged toward the Demon Lord’s neck…

“I knew you would be having more fun over here!”

…only for it to stop between the elbow and knee of a black-haired girl.

Matoi immediately let go of the sickle, and it vanished.

Between Matoi and Veltol stood a girl with long black hair in a ponytail and beautiful tanned skin. She wore a black tracksuit with gold trim and a shirt with the word dragon on it.

Matoi ran a scan.

Immortal factor, mana pattern—everything about this girl indicated she was a certain immortal.

“The Black Dragon Duchess…!”

One of the True Six Dark Peers. The leader of the flying mechanized dragon troops, a pillar of the New Demon Lord Army’s aerial forces.

However, she must’ve been using some sort of shapeshifting magic—this delicate girl did not match the giant dragon in Matoi’s memory.

“You look very cute…but my analysis says my cuteness index is higher!” said Matoi.

“Cute…?! Veltol! Don’t tell me this sweet girlie is our enemy!”

“Why are you returning her compliments?! Can you not see the situation here?!”

“All right, all right. My slight apologies.” Sihlwald broke all the spears piercing Veltol’s body.

“You always appear at the best time and disappear at the worst, Sister.”

“Please, enough compliments.”

“But why are you here?”

“I got bored with matters over there, so I came to check on you.”

“I appreciate the simplicity.”

“So what’s going on here?”

“Allow me to be brief. This young lady seems to be related to the Guild we are after.”

“Uh-huh. Okay, we’ll worry about the fox girl over there later…” Sihlwald narrowed her golden dragon eyes at Matoi. “We just need to get rid of this one, right? As unfortunate as that is. I’ll…”

Sihlwald vanished like smoke.

“…get on it.”

She closed the distance in an instant.

Sihlwald was already in position for a right hook when she reached Matoi. Matoi’s sensors detected it, and she received it with Gulagalad’s fist.

“Agh…?!”

Matoi was blown backward with the sound of a bell. She crashed into and through the building’s fence, all the way to the next building’s rooftop.

“Ngh…! That much force with just a punch…?! Gulagalad is undamaged, but my organic magical alloy frame is warped… The power must be coming from the monstrous mana volume circulating in her body…”

Matoi analyzed Sihlwald’s attack as soon as she landed and snapped Gulagalad’s fingers to manipulate her own frame and treat her damage with mana.

Matoi was not the only one surprised.

“What in the world…? She’s tough. Veltol, I knew she was strong the moment I laid eyes on her, but look at that. Her arm is still on after I punched her with all I’ve got.” Sihlwald was equally shocked Matoi had survived her attack. “Well, nothing a few more punches can’t fix.”

The Black Dragon spread her small wings and took flight.

Matoi was against a wall; there was nowhere to run. She had no choice but to counterattack.

“Aldebard!”

She used the fence behind her to produce the red sword said to have been used by the Hero to slay the immortal dragon giant.

There were many types of dragon slayers. The sharp ones that could easily slash through the dragons’ scales. The ones infused with poison that could kill dragons. The ones without any special power that were labeled dragon slayers after the fact thanks to the owner’s skill.

Aldebard could be used against all types of dragons. It was a dragon slayer and an immortal slayer. The perfect weapon against Sihlwald, who was both dragon and immortal.

Matoi swung the sword, aiming for the speeding dragon’s neck. The dragon girl guarded by gently holding her arms up.

Useless, Matoi thought. She was sure of her victory. Aldebard cut through dragon scales and severed their sturdy neckbones. Not even the legendary Black Dragon should be able to stand the blow of this dragon slayer.

And yet.

The dragon slayer stopped with a shrill ring.

Forget about severing Sihlwald’s bones; it could not even damage her skin.

“That seems to be a dragon slayer,” Sihlwald remarked. “Sorry to say, they don’t work on me. You see, they call me the Anti-Dragon Slayer… My scales are specially protected against dragon slayer attacks.”

“Inconceivable…!”

Matoi evaded the one-inch punch dealt point-blank by a hair, but the punch’s pressure blew the fence away.

“…Ngh!”

She turned the iron into orichalcum and deployed a spear curtain to distance herself.

“Veltol, follow me!” Sihlwald shouted.

“Yes, ma’am!”

The Black Dragon stood in front of the Demon Lord.

Sihlwald’s entry hugely tipped the scales.

“What now, eh, kid?!” she sneered.

“Ugh…!”

Matoi dodged Sihlwald’s kick, but…

“Verbull!”

…Veltol shot a spell from her blind spot. She immediately deployed a steel wall to stop the compressed mana bullet.

“You first…!”

Matoi charged against Veltol when Sihlwald blocked her path.

Sihlwald stood at the vanguard while Veltol supported her from the rear. This formation put Matoi at a disadvantage.

Having the Black Dragon Duchess at the vanguard was obviously dicey, but Veltol at the back was the real threat. Matoi had to take Veltol down first, but the Black Dragon Duchess was too deft to let her.

Matoi was never overconfident, but she had to admit the Demon Lord and Six Dark Peers’ power fifty years in the past was stronger than she’d expected. She could not use teleportation to escape, and getting away from these powerhouses was too much to ask. But either capture or destruction would mean she’d failed her mission.

And the situation could only get worse the more time passed.

My analysis says I must keep it short and sweet…

Matoi pushed her mana engine to full power and activated Metal Rule.

“Gulagalad, close EBV. Link all mana!”

This mythic armament of legend could not be produced through regular processing. It was a sword of salvation that should have been impossible to generate from an equal amount of crude metal data.

“Wh-what in the world?!”

“Unbelievable…!”

Sihlwald and Veltol exclaimed in shock at the mana overflow.

Metal Rule created a torrent of living roots from the rebar and frames of multiple abandoned buildings that blocked their path. The undulating material was transformed by Golden Metallurgy into a magical alloy. Eighty percent mithril, 19 percent orichalcum, and 1 percent adamant.

Matoi touched the massive alloy.

“Activating super overload mode! Sacred Forge output off the charts!”

Light ran across Gulagalad as its armor opened up. Its frame glowed bright.

Matoi called the name of the Holy Sword she’d created with almost all her remaining mana.

“Ixasorde!”

Blinding silver light burst in Shinjuku.

Steam and excess mana and heat blew from every part of Gulagalad.

The immense mass of multiple abandoned buildings converged to create one single sword.

From the steam emerged the Unwavering Silver Sun. The volume of mana and data Sacred Forge required varied from weapon to weapon, and this treasure was in the top of its class. The Holy Sword created from Gulagalad’s memory ignored all requirements, and although it was not the exact same one the Hero Gram had wielded, its capabilities were identical.

Something changed within Veltol when he witnessed the silver light.

“You…”

His voice was a stark contrast from moments earlier—like cold and sharp needles that impaled Matoi’s central circuit.

“Do you understand what you are holding…? Do you have any idea what you’ve just created?”

“…? Affirmative. This is the Holy Sword that chooses only true Heroes, forged by Holk, given to Meldia, and bestowed upon the Hero Gram—Ixasorde.”

“That it is…” He slowly covered his face with a hand. “Not…”

His wide-open eyes were visible between the gaps in his fingers. He glared at Matoi, his face contorted with vein-popping indignation.

Veltol had lost his composure.

“Not only…”

Try as he might to control his wrath, there was no calm reason in his voice.

“Not only do you call yourself a Hero and try provoking me with insolence… That alone merits capital punishment…”

Veltol’s quiet, boiling anger felt like heat to Matoi’s touch sensors.

“However…if…if that was all there was to it…I would be begrudgingly willing to pardon you… But now! Now you dare desecrate even that sword! This cannot and will not stand!” he roared as if vomiting up his innards.

Veltol leaned forward, his hair bristling. The ghastly sight shook Matoi’s determination in her duty to change the future.

“What…?” Even Sihlwald was visibly shocked. “What’s gotten into you…?”

Emi, watching from afar, felt similarly struck by his wrath. “Eeeep…”

Nobody could understand. Not the mixed emotions of admiration and hatred Veltol held for the man who had triumphed over him. Not the chagrin of seeing his symbol created and wielded by another.

“The title and sword belong to that man and that man alone! They are not some vulgar fool’s playthings! And your sin shall not be forgiven in this life or any of the next!”

He roared like a dragon, rocking Matoi’s mechanical organs.

“If it is my wrath you desire, then so be it!”

Veltol’s hand shot up to the heavens.

“Burn my ire into your eyes…for it is the last thing you will see!”

His mana reaction skyrocketed.

“Dell Stella!”

It looked as though he were grasping the sky and pulling it down.

Matoi watched as the thick clouds were blown apart by a giant, jet-black star that came tumbling down.

“Wait, you fool! You’ll take out everything around here with her!” Sihlwald yelled.

“Uwaaah! I’m gonna dieee!” Emi cried.

“…!”

Matoi sprinted—not toward Veltol, but toward the Dell Stella falling on Shinjuku.

The city’s going to get hit if that reaches the ground…!

Damage to the city should not have affected Matoi’s quest. Her idea circuit said the most efficient course of action would be to defeat Veltol after he used this incredible spell. Rationale told her she had better chances of success that way.

“But…that’s not the only thing that matters! Not for the justice I believe in…!”

Her principles of conduct, her design philosophy, her raison d’être would not allow that. The justice she believed in did not permit her to make the rational decision.

“Because I…am a Hero…!”

She extended her footholds, leaped off her floating weapons, and rapidly closed in on the falling Dell Stella.

Matoi raised the silver Holy Sword—the blade only a Hero could wield.

“Hyaaaaaaaaah!”

She swung it down at the black star of destruction. Ixasorde’s Absolute Slash kicked in.

“Alwing!”

The silver slash parted the giant black star in two.

Matoi’s Holy Sword vanished the moment Dell Stella evaporated.

Veltol emerged in Matoi’s visual field, his fist raised.

Defeat was becoming inevitable. She’d chosen immediate justice over a distant great cause. The irrational choice.

“I’m sorry…I couldn’t save the world…”

Veltol had caught her by using Dell Stella as bait. Matoi had lost her weapon and was immovably stiff, having finished her attack.

Veltol swung his fist into Matoi’s midsection.

“Dell Ray!”

A black flash burst between his fist and Matoi’s body the instant the strike connected.

The shock to her whole body shut down Matoi’s consciousness.

FRAGMENT

Blade Runner

Month of the Kraken, Day 12, 1596 CE

“Captain Zenol.”

The man on the Nightmare warhorse at the front on the dark night road, wearing a black helmet and armor, directed his attention to the voice while still looking ahead.

“We are soon to reach the village at the border of the Ohm Kingdom.”

“I see,” the man said.

“…Excuse me, Captain Zenol.”

“What is it, Myneus?”

The therian woman in black armor spoke hesitantly. “I realize it is just a demi-human troop, but wouldn’t you say this big an army to attack one village is a bit excessive? I believe those of us with the Order of the Karmic Sword should be enough…”

The knights in black armor on black warhorses were joined by a flag-bearing group: a plain-armor army of lizardmen, the descendants of dragons.

“We are mobilizing without His Majesty’s permission. We cannot fail.”

“Exactly, Myneus.” A large male ogre half a step behind Zenol nodded. “And you know how easy it is to cut off a lizard’s tail.”

“Refrain from such remarks, Taras. They, too, are Captain Zenol’s subordinates now.”

“Heh. Don’t act high and mighty when you just called them demi-humans. You realize us ogres and therians are demi-humans from the point of view of mortal elves and humans, right?”

“Enough banter,” Zenol said sharply. “Let’s go over the plan.”

Whisper magic let Zenol’s voice reach the rest of the Order behind him.

Zenol spoke of nothing but loyalty and determination.

Voices of confirmation overlapped.

“Start the operation! Everyone follow me!”

The black horses sped up at Zenol’s command. Magic fire arrows whizzed through the air past them.

“Huh? Who are you?! Stop! Stop or—”

The village watchman’s head went flying. Zenol had unsheathed and swung his sword the moment he passed the man on horseback.

The bloodbath began. Screams, shrieks, and yells filled the small village.

The proud Order of the Karmic Sword and the army of lizardmen took up arms so their king could establish a place for all immortals—the Eonian Kingdom. They murdered the powerless mortals in the process. No pride or honor in the act; it was all for their king’s dominance. A dirty job to make sure the immortals held power over the world, even if their own king would abhor it. Kill, murder, slaughter.

Who could say how many people died in this tiny village? Sons protecting their parents, mothers pleading for their children to be spared, children in hiding; they were all pulled out into the open and killed.

There was no excusing it—this was a massacre.

Fire spread and engulfed the whole village, the blinding red flames rising so high as if to burn the night sky.

At the back of this hellscape, on a small hill, Zenol witnessed something unbelievable.

“What…?”

The lizardmen soldiers led by Taras, the large ogre, had been cut down. Yet that alone was not so shocking.

What took Zenol by surprise were the two lizardmen with thin iron stakes buried in their joints and necks; one was pinned to the ground, while the other was pinned to a house’s wall. Immobilizing the joints or crushing the windpipe to prevent spellcasting was an effective, if temporary, way to disable an immortal in combat. A rational strategy.

“Someone this familiar with immortals in such a remote village,” Zenol mused. “Could it be…the child of prophecy?”

This was someone skilled enough to fight and neutralize the Order of the Karmic Sword’s elite knights.

“You wait here, Taras,” said Zenol. “I shall—”

The moment he approached the lizardmen’s corpses to take the stakes, he swung his sword high above.

The clash echoed throughout the burning mountain village.

Zenol fell off his black horse, which now had a metal stake through the top of its head. Someone had thrown the stake in secret from the rooftops. When Zenol looked in that direction, he saw a blond, middle-aged man.

“Is it you who felled my troops?” Zenol asked the man.

“Yes.”

Metal stakes hung from the man’s belt, and he held a red sword in his hand, its blade emanating mana.

It does not feel powerful enough to destroy me like the legendary Ixasorde can… I have Taras here as proof, thought Zenol. That said, better safe than sorry.

The blond man’s impenetrable bearing and the pressure from the sharp point of his weapon left no doubt that he was a grizzled fighter.

“I am one of Demon Lord Veltol’s Six Dark Peers: Zenol, Duke of the Karmic Sword.”

“I’m Grad Ryal. What are the Six Dark Peers doing in such a small village…? No, that doesn’t matter. The blow to the darklings will be huge once I take my revenge for all the villagers.”

“Something tells me you are no ordinary villager.”

“I was once head of the Ohm knights order.”

“No wonder… I shan’t hold back against you. Come, Grad.”

“Have at thee.”

Zenol unsheathed the sword from his hip and took a stance.

Both veterans, they gauged the distance between each other. Zenol and Grad took a step forward in sync and swung their swords as they rushed past each other.

The fleeting sound of swords slashing the air.

“Grad Ryal… You are strong.”

The wound on Zenol’s neck, between his helmet and armor, closed up before he wiped the blood away with his finger. Grad’s blade had to be a Holy Sword with immortal-slaying powers, although its output was weak. Zenol’s small wound brought him dull pain.

Meanwhile, blood spurted out of Grad’s head.

“Guh…!”

He collapsed in a pool of his own blood.

“Cur…ses…”

The red sword fell from his hand and pierced the ground in front of the door to a house.

Creak.

The door then opened.

“Dad…?”

A delicate girl with golden hair and blue eyes peered out from the other side.

“Mili…na… Stay…away…”

Grad lost his strength and collapsed into the sea of his own blood, his eyes still set on the girl.

Grad’s daughter, I take it?

Zenol held his sword up, judging it to be merciful to allow her to die by her father’s side. Grad must have told her to stay in hiding. She would not stop trembling, her face frozen in fear.

Everyone had to be killed, even the most innocent of girls.

“How dare you…”

Milina grasped the hilt of her father’s sword.

“How dare you do that to my father…!”

She pointed its end at Zenol with a shaky grip.

Her arms were slim and her fingers neat; she had never held a sword in her life, much less experienced a fight. Her arms and legs shook with fear and anger at her father’s murder.

The sword’s weight was too much for her; it quickly sank back into the ground.

“There is no salvation for you,” said Zenol. “Do not resist and you will feel no pai—”

Then chills ran down the Duke of the Karmic Sword’s spine. He stepped back as he sensed something the immortal had rarely felt throughout his long years of war—death.

What happened…? What did she do to me…?

Zenol’s brain caught up with his reaction after he had taken his distance.

Milina had swung the sword at a speed even Zenol could barely keep up with. She blew away his helmet and cut the end of his mouth. The helmet crashed into the ground with a loud clang, and the hot air hit his exposed half-therian face.

Zenol saw the girl embody a starkly different aura from moments prior.

She breathed heavily while glaring at him.

Sharp pain stung the end of his mouth, and the metallic taste of blood spread across his tongue.

My wound is not healing…?

The wound Grad inflicted on him had closed instantly, yet the one from Milina remained open. He observed the sword and noticed more powerful mana than it had in Grad’s hands. Crimson light radiated from the blade.

It must be the kind of Holy Sword whose power depends on its user. Grad was not able to use its full power, but it is far stronger in this girl’s hands. Yet the Holy Sword did not choose her…

Zenol knew about this inborn power.

This was a special ability called Heavenly Sword’s Gift, which the Paladin Althia possessed. A talent that allowed the user to freely wield anything that could be considered a sword to its full potential. A mere novice could instantly master the technical prowess of an experienced swordfighter.

Why does this girl have such a gift?!

Milina hadn’t realized her own talent before, either. Her Heavenly Sword’s Gift bloomed in the moment of impending doom.

“I’ll kill you…,” she growled.

Zenol was certain at the sight of her burning, piercing, bloodthirsty glare.

“I’ll kill you!”

“She’s…”

The girl before his eyes…

“…the child of prophecy!”

The Duke of the Karmic Sword summoned his true weapon—the one fused with his soul.

“Ooze in the shadowy prison: Zenol!”

Zenol grasped the hilt growing out of his chest and pulled it out with a splash of shadows. He lifted Zenol the black greatsword and took a step toward Milina.

She dragged the sword, too heavy for her to even lift, in an attempt to swing it again.

The next moment, the red blade took over Zenol’s field of view. He immediately blocked with the black sword, and a heavy metal clash rang out.

“Guh…!”

Zenol was pushed backward.

Milina was not even swinging at random. She lacked strength in her core, and her upper body wavered. The sword was swinging her around. She had no strength and no fundamentals. Yet she could fight toe-to-toe with Zenol.

Despite the great difference in poise and everything else, it reminded him of a certain individual.

In the distant past, back when he was still mortal, his swordsmanship mentor had told him, “Mmm, see, from my point of view, people at your level don’t have talent. You gotta control the sword, but I’m special. The sword just keeps up with me.”

Zenol had been too green to understand what she meant back then, but now he knew. She meant people like this girl.

If the girl lives, she will get in the way of His Majesty…of the founding of the Eonian Kingdom. I must kill her here and now!

Zenol gripped his greatsword tightly.

It did not take long for the match to be settled.

After a few blows, the victory went to Zenol.

No matter the talent, in the end, she was merely an inexperienced little girl. Her body must have been weak from birth, too. It reached its limits, and she dropped the sword first.

“…I am sorry.”

After a short apology, Zenol pierced Milina’s heart.

He felt no shame about going all out against a little girl. She was that strong. It was only thanks to her poor health and lack of experience that he was able to win. Had she been in perfect health and had one year of experience, it would not have been this close.

Zenol was certain he did the right thing.

He pulled the sword out.

“Ah…”

Milina watched the blood dripping from her chest as she collapsed next to her father.

“I’m glad I could eliminate the child of prophecy and her family here… They would have been His Majesty’s biggest enemies if left alive.”

Zenol traced the wound on his lips as he spoke. Sharp pain lingered.

The battle was over and the bleeding had stopped, but his wound hadn’t yet healed.

“…”

He glanced at the red sword next to the girl.

Perhaps it was epic-level or heroic-level. It was not powerful, but it could still slay immortals. Retrieving immortal-slaying weapons was a duty in the Immortal Kingdom, yet Zenol did not pick it up.

He showed respect for Milina and Grad. Let the sword serve as a gravestone.

Zenol turned his back and left.

In the middle of the blood, darkness, and flames—the instant before Milina took her last breath—a tear spilled from one of her empty eyes, and she muttered:

“Be safe…Brother…Gram…”

Sparks crackled under the night.

Month of the Gryphon, Day 2, 2099 FE, 18:00

“Haah… Haah… Haah…!”

Zenol sat up in the bed in a cheap inn in Outer Shinjuku, trying to control his breathing.

He was not wearing his magi-gear.

The memories of his past that tormented him in his sleep were always so vivid; he could still feel the friction of his blade on flesh and the heat of the fire on his skin.

Zenol knew that story ended more than five hundred years ago.

Legend had it that Zenol’s Order of the Karmic Sword ravaged the Hero Gram’s hometown. Gram later took Paladin Althia as his mentor, was picked for the Ohm Kingdom Knights Order’s foreign campaign, and went on a journey to defeat the Demon Lord.

However, not even the Hero Gram knew the memory Zenol had just seen.

“Fuck… How long do I have to endure this…? I never wanted this power…”

Zenol spat curses before opening the plastic bottle on his bedside table and gulping down its contents.

A voice came through encrypted aether comms into his head.

He knew it all too well.

“Ange, eh?”

“I found her, but she ran away. I’m taking a breather now.”

“How about you? How’s Shibuya?”

“But?”

“Huh?”

“Oh yeah…” Zenol’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. “So why’d you call?”

“So what is it? Stop beating around the bush!”

“That’s all?”

“Why’s it always sound like some cheap fortune-telling? Can’t she do better?”

“Yeah, I know… I’m sorry. By the way, about Emilia’s—”

“Gah, what a drag! Even mentioning her is such a pain with all the names she’s got. Collector, Emilia, whatever! Okay, codename Priestess—where’s she gonna show up next? Imma catch that nut next time I see her, even if I gotta kill ’er.”

Ange sighed. “Priestess’s next forecasted destination is…”

Month of the Gryphon, Day 2, 2099 FE, 18:00

A system message popped up as Matoi rebooted.

“Ah… Uh…”

The white-in effect in her visual device was like being blinded by a camera flash, and the static in her audio device sounded like a sandstorm. Both were clearing up little by little.

She could see a ceiling. Low and dirty.

A system scan result flashed across her visual field. Her visual sensors were still failing.

She analyzed her current situation.

She had found a woman with a high causality interference measurement and an immortal man calling himself the Demon Lord Veltol. Matoi had attacked, but the Black Dragon Duchess Sihlwald had interrupted, and Matoi had been defeated.

Her torso was damaged, but not too badly. It would heal quickly.

Yeah, this is nothing.

Matoi rubbed the wound on her abdomen.

The clothes she’d borrowed were torn and burned with traces of black mana.

Veltol’s spell. I analyzed it when I first encountered him, and its piercing and explosive power was huge… A direct blow at that distance and time should have wrecked me… He cut down its power… But why…?

The effects of the shutdown and reboot prevented her quantum core’s central processing unit—her idea circuit—from performing more than one task at a single time.

Matoi snapped out of the hyperfocus and sat up.

“Where am I…?”

She was lying on an old couch. A thin, fluffy blanket was draped over her.

The room was small. Junk was scattered all over the place.

Even though this location was completely foreign to Matoi, her nervous system somehow remained calm.

Is this…?

“Hey, you’re awake.”

“…?!”

Her malfunctioning sensors had made her negligent; she twitched in response to the voice.

“Wh-who are you…?” Matoi asked, looking to see who had spoken.

It was the half-therian woman, Emi.

She was wearing a lab coat and hat just like before, and the soft aether neon lights coming into the dark room from the window cast deep shadows on her face.

“Right, we never introduced ourselves. I’m Emi Chabatake. Detective.”

“…I’m Matoi, a Hero from the Guild.”

“You’re quite cute for a Hero.”

“Affirmative. Analysis tells me I am the cutest.” Matoi reflexively did her sideways V-sign pose.

Emi giggled. “You should’ve seen what happened after you got knocked out. You did enough damage as it is, but then my assistant used that huge spell. Sirens went off, the City Guard came, it was pandemonium. If we were to make our great escape into a novel, I would say it’d take about twenty pages of a standard paperback format.”

Matoi wasn’t sure if that was a lot of pages. “M-more importantly, why am I here unrestrained? I attacked your group.”

“Back there, instead of attacking my assistant, you went after his huge spell. I think you could say he pulled something of a villain move, and yet you were more worried about the damage he’d cause to the surroundings, right?”

“I…”

“You were trying to kill or capture me and my assistant, and someone acting on mechanical calculations would not do something like that. So I concluded you were more rational than I initially thought, and we could talk things out. The fact that I’m here, defenseless, and you’re not attacking me is proof.”

Matoi could not argue back. She had no reason not to capture this woman here and now when she had to change the future.

“No wonder you’re a detective. Yes, my analysis tells me there is something wrong with me. I can’t process priorities on the spot.”

Was it a defect of her idea circuit she couldn’t yet discover, or was it something else?

The only person who could give her an answer was not there.

“Hey, you’re human, too. It happens. We all make illogical decisions sometimes.”

“Human…”

Emi was defenseless, showing no enmity, just talking to Matoi. Killing or capturing her would be easy. And her causality interference value remained at 100.

Matoi felt like she could begin to understand why she couldn’t make the most logical decision.

Instead of doing the logical thing as a weapon and a machine, she chose the illogical way of her own sense of justice and was defeated.

“So let’s talk first, yeah? We have the intelligence to communicate with each other. Violence is a simple way to solve things, but we’d rather leave it as a last resource, don’t you think?”

Talk.

Matoi hadn’t considered the possibility even once. Or rather, it was way too low on her priority list. After all, she had lived in a world that allowed for no talk up until now.

“Go take a shower first,” Emi told her. “You’re pretty dirty.”

Normally, Matoi’s mechanical surface needed no washing. Yet she headed to the changing room as suggested.

Deep within her idea circuit, a democratic vote took place: Cleaning her dirty body with warm water would lower her discomfort and raise her operating efficiency.

She opened the door to the changing room and went inside.

It was cramped. There was a washing machine, a towel rack, and a door to the shower area.

Matoi got undressed while defragmenting her memory.

That reminds me—I wonder what happened to the kids I borrowed these clothes from. I hope they’re not cold. No, of course they are.

Whether due to having just rebooted, fatigue from the battle, or even both, her idea circuit’s processing was slower than usual and full of unrelated static.

That was why she didn’t notice something—there were already two sets of clothes in the changing room.

Heat and steam and the sound of running water came from the shower area.

That was why she failed to realize—beyond the door were two naked figures: Veltol and Sihlwald, showering together.

“?!”

“Mm!”

“What is it?”

The Demon Lord, the Black Dragon, and humanity’s last Hero made eye contact.

“?!”

“Oh, sorry,” Emi called. “Looks like it’s too late to tell you they’re already using the shower.”

“Yes, much too late!” Matoi cried.

How could anyone even forget that? But before Matoi’s idea circuit could question Emi’s judgment, Sihlwald spoke.

“Hey, you’re not allowed in here! I understand why you’d want to shower with us, but you’re not getting your way just because you’re a little cute!”

“Negative! I didn’t mean to—”

“I’m showering with him! Begone!”

“Sister, you pushed your way in here… I wanted to shower alone…”

“Shut up! No grumbling! Know your place as the kid brother!”

“Please don’t pull that. You’ll tear it right off me.”

“What are these two doing…?”

First of all, Matoi’s idea circuit couldn’t process why a dragon like Sihlwald would claim to be Veltol’s older sister; next, she couldn’t process why siblings would take a shower together.

“Heh, very well,” said Veltol. “I shall forgive your insolent peeping. You may enter. Take a good look.”

“I will do no such thing!”

Matoi slammed the door shut.

Month of the Gryphon, Day 2, 2099 FE, 19:30

“Now, then.”

Before Matoi’s eyes stood a man with his long, black hair tied up. He was wearing a bandana and apron, with a broom in his right hand and a duster in his left.

This was the man calling himself the Demon Lord Veltol.

“Is everyone ready?” he asked.

Emi and Sihlwald were similarly dressed to clean the Chabatake Detective Agency. Matoi was no exception—she, too, wore a cleaning outfit.

“Ready as ever, my trusty assistant,” said Emi. “I may be more skilled at dirtying than cleaning, but I shall complete this mission.”

“What a drag… I never even cleaned my own den,” Sihlwald grumbled.

“It’s hard not to end up scrolling or gaming in the middle of it, right?”

“Yeah, you get it!”

Sihlwald and Emi bumped fists in a secret handshake.

“Suggestion. I am not made for housework. This is beyond my area of support.”

Everyone was hugely motivated.

So how did things end up like this?

“Okay, people. The next job is pretty heavy, so let’s hold a detective meeting here.”

“Emi, question. What is a detective meeting?”

“A meeting between detectives, my dear Matoi.”

“That gives me no additional information.”

“We shall also clean this office while we’re at it.”

“I don’t see the logical connection between a detective meeting and cleaning.”

“Do you not see the mess around us? It is only logical that we clean this place.”

“Well said, Brother. One must always clean before a meeting…”

“Huh? A-am I the weird one?!”

And thus the decision to clean the Chabatake Detective Agency was made.

“Let’s cut to the chase. Who are you?” Veltol asked Matoi while soaking a cloth in water and wringing it out.

“I don’t think you’ll believe me…”

“That will be up to me to decide.”

Matoi figured that since they had no intention of destroying or even restraining her, she should share intel and try to get their help.

“I came here from Washington, fifty years in the future—the thirty-first of the Month of the Undine in the year 2149 FE. Washington’s population in 2149 is one million—1,004,812, to be precise. That is the entirety of the human race. I used a time machine to come to this era to change the future of humanity’s demise.”

Matoi spoke of the New Demon Lord Army. The Eschaton Demon Lord Veltol trying to destroy the world. His True Six Dark Peers. The resistance of the Guild. That she was an Einherjar magiroid, a Hero, a weapon to fight the immortals. The time machine, the space-time divergence, the causality interference. That Emi was a key person to solidifying the doomed future. That the future would be set in stone on Gryphon 4 at 17:36. She hid nothing.

This is all so ludicrous. They must find it absolutely unbelievable, Matoi thought while picking up trash from the floor.

She gave her three companions a quick glance.

“I’m a one hundred on causality interference…? So I’m related to the future ending in destruction? …Meee? Whyyy?” Emi asked Matoi.

“I know nothing other than the measurements… Do you not have any idea?”

“You think I would? I’d bet your readings are wrong.” Emi shrugged while wringing out a cloth.

“Eschaton Demon Lord…Veltol…” Veltol covered his mouth, terribly shocked. “Huh? I do that in the future…?”

“And I believed in you, Assistant…”

“Whoa, you’re a dirtbag, Veltol,” said Sihlwald. “I always knew you’d do something like that.”

“Don’t forget you help him destroy the world, y’know,” Emi added.

“Hold on, you two! Would someone as wise as I ever dare to do something so foolish, so outrageously barbaric, as to exterminate humanity? That does not connect with my ultimate goal! I am meant to rule over the world and bring world peace!”

“But you killed all those mortals in the war, right?”

“S-Sihlwald… Did you not understand that war?! You’re one of the Six Dark Peers! I did not launch a war on the mortals out of hatred! The Immortal War came as a last resort from the breakage of diplomacy!”

Veltol swung a cloth around in protest, splashing water everywhere.

Sihlwald and Matoi dodged thanks to their supernatural reflexes, but Emi ended up drenched.

“But still, I don’t find it unthinkable that you’d do something like that… You said you’d destroy your homeland when I first met you… It kinda makes sense,” said Sihlwald.

“Wow, you’ve got big ambitions, Assistant.”

“Sister! Who do you take me for?! I am telling you, total annihilation makes zero sense! My power weakens the fewer humans there are. Fewer humans means less faith! Why would I try to eradicate them?!” Veltol fumed while wiping every single nook and cranny.

“It just means your emotions won over your political ideals. I wonder what happened for you to do that.”

Sihlwald crossed her arms behind her head, using her tail to wipe with a cloth.

“It seems you had a strong grudge against humanity.”

Matoi swept the floor with careful and unwavering attention.

“So he got even angrier than when he fought you, Matoi… I wonder what could do that.”

Emi split all the junk into “keep” and “toss” piles, and only the “keep” pile kept growing.

“No, no, I was never angry to begin with. That was all an act to fool Matoi. Why would I ever become enraged for that blond man’s sake?” said Veltol.

“…You should get an award for that performance, then…,” Sihlwald told him.

“Hee-hee. I’ll be honest, I peed myself a little,” Emi admitted. “See that pair of underwear drying over there?”

“You did…?” Sihlwald looked at the drying underwear pitifully.

“Apologies,” said Matoi. “I still don’t understand what angered Veltol, but analysis tells me I must have been terribly disrespectful. I am sorry.”

“No… No need for apologies. I got myself riled up. Mea culpa. I even made you clean up after my mistakes. I’m the one who’s sorry.”

“You never know when Veltol’s going to get fiery…,” Sihlwald remarked.

“He’ll even steal a motorcycle without a second thought. I can totally see him destroying humanity,” Emi added.

“Wait! I only took urgent action because you ordered me to escape! And I’ve already found the motorcycle’s owner and compensated them. However…I suppose I cannot say it would be absolutely unthinkable for me to exterminate the human race, but I’m more hurt that you all accepted the claim so readily…”

“W-wait!” Matoi cried. “I realize it’s silly to ask at this point, but… You really believe me?”

“Huh? You mean it’s not true?” asked Sihlwald.

“Was it all a lie?” said Emi.

“I would rather it be a lie, personally,” added Veltol.

“N-negative,” Matoi replied. “I spoke the truth, but I didn’t expect you to believe me…”

“I mean, why would you lie about it?” asked Emi.

“I still question the credibility of me carrying out such an atrocity, but I understand you are an ultra-high-performance magiroid,” said Veltol. “It makes more sense for you not to be of this era.”

“Thinking is too much of a pain, so I just go along with whatever these two say!” added Sihlwald.

Matoi did not know how to react, having them believe her so easily.

If they had asked for proof, she couldn’t open her head and let them check; she had no specific data about this particular day, nor did she have a sports almanac with her. But they trusted her, even after she attacked them out of nowhere. And they could have just as easily laughed it off as nonsense.

In that case, she should return the trust.

“One correction, if I may. Ultra-high-performance magiroid is not accurate,” Matoi said while putting a half-empty plastic bottle in a trash bag.

“Then what are you?” Veltol asked.

“An ultra-high-performance and ultra-cute magiroid.” She did a sideways V-sign—a symbol of her trust.

“What’s with that pose?”

“It’s the latest in cutesy poses fifty years from now.”

“Ooh…!”

Impressed, Veltol raised two fingers, brought them up to the side of his face, and opened them while moving them sideways. He flashed a smug smile.

“So? Am I cute?” he asked Matoi.

“Not as much as me, but analysis tells me you are decently cute.”

Veltol grinned with satisfaction. Sihlwald looked at him as if to say, What the heck is that guy doing? all while playing with a broom and dustpan like a sword and shield.

“Anyway, Matoi,” said Emi, “I’m amazed you can actually travel to the past with a time machine. Aren’t you, Assistant?”

“Indeed, time travel is not so easy. I would have laughed it off as a pipedream before.” Veltol paused for a moment. “I once studied time-related magic, and Methenoel was the fruit of that endeavor. The spell sends my soul’s data to the future, where it is reconstructed. Depending on how you look at it, you could say it involves traveling through space and time into the future. But traveling to the past is more difficult…albeit not impossible. In theory, at least. It should not be that surprising that the advancement of technology across five hundred years would exceed my imagination.”

Sihlwald showed no interest in Veltol’s explanation. Instead, she asked Matoi a question.

“Who were the True Six Dark Peers, by the way?”

“The Duchess of Weal and Woe, the Aether Hacker Duchess, the Duke of Desecration, the Duchess of the Thunder Slash, the Black Dragon Duchess, and the Duke of the Iron Shell.”

Matoi saw a finger puppet of the bastardized rabbit mascot Ishimary and thought, This thing looks a bit like the Duke of the Iron Shell’s giant MG…

She immediately threw it into the trash.

“Dunno any of ’em,” Sihlwald said. “Well, except me. I mean, I suppose I would join Veltol if he just said, ‘Hey, let’s destroy the human race!’”

“You don’t care much about humans either way, do you, Sihlwald?” Emi said.

After careful consideration, Emi tossed the Ishimary finger puppet into the “keep” pile.

“Not to worry. Emi likes you. We’ll let you live,” Sihlwald said while putting the Ishimary finger puppet on her finger and playing with it.

“Wait,” said Veltol. “Someone important is missing from that list Matoi mentioned.”

“Who?” asked Sihlwald.

“What’s missing?” said Emi.

“Machina, of course.”

“Right, Machina’s name wasn’t there. Or May’s.”

“Machina?” Emi asked.

“The Duchess of the Dazzling Blaze. She’s one of my fellow Six Dark Peers.”

“Ahh, the Dazzling Blaze. Is she a woman like the stories say?”

Sihlwald nodded. “She’s very cute. Just not as cute as me.”

“Uh-huh… You have someone like that in your life, Assistant? I’m a little jealous.”

“Get jealous over me, too! I’m also cute!”

“Of course you are, Sihlwald.”

“Hee-hee-hee-hee.”

“Suggestion. Analysis tells me that I am the cutest. Two steps above the Duchess of the Dazzling Blaze.”

“Machina is also very devoted. She waited five centuries for Veltol to come back,” said Sihlwald.

“Isn’t that a little too devoted?” Emi remarked as she threw away an unopened debt collection notice without bothering to check it. “Anyway, Matoi. What happens to Machina in the future?”

Matoi searched her memory.

The name Machina Soleige, Duchess of the Dazzling Blaze, was in a cache from the browsing history in Matoi’s external memory storage.

Namely…

“There is no data on her after Undine 31, 2099 FE—December 31 in the Gregorian calendar.”

“No data?” said Veltol. “That means…”

“She is probably dead in the future. Or rather, demised, as she is an immortal,” Emi added. “No proof here, but if I could give a deduction, it might not be too far off the mark to say her demise is related to the destruction of humanity.”

“Machina’s demise leads me to destroy the world…?”

“Affirmative. Analysis tells me there is that possibility. The invasion of the Eschaton Demon Lord coincides with the disappearance of the Duchess of the Dazzling Blaze.”

“That also means her survival is certain until the end of the year,” said Veltol.

“Wait, wait, wait, hold on.” Sihlwald stopped balancing the broom on her finger. “Isn’t the future supposed to change on Gryphon 4, 2099, at 17:36? Undine 31 is, like, half a year away.”

“I understand your confusion, Sister. I imagine the events of Gryphon 4 would have a delayed effect on Undine 31.”

“Mmm… Is that it…?” Sihlwald didn’t seem convinced.

“Time for the Great Detective’s summary,” Emi began. “Something will happen at the end of the year 2099 that triggers the demise of the Duchess of the Dazzling Blaze Machina, and this might lead to humanity’s extinction. Its root cause traces all the way back to Gryphon 4—two days from now—and we have to stop it.”

“For starters, I will tell Machina to be careful,” said Veltol. “But now I want to ask about the Guild’s goal.”

“The future Guild?” Matoi asked.

“No, the one in the present.”

“In this age…? There’s no difference. The Guild’s goal since its establishment has always been to save the world.”

“Save the world?” Veltol furrowed his brow while wiping a window.

“In our era, that entails fighting the New Demon Lord Army, the group dedicated to destroying the human race,” Matoi replied. “At present, the Guild’s goal appears to be collecting enigmas in preparation for saving the world.”

“Collecting enigmas… A few things come to mind. In Akihabara, the Guild tried to obtain Meldia’s divinity, and in Yokohama, they didn’t stop someone who attempted to achieve godhood. Something to that effect.” Veltol wiped the outside of the window while continuing: “I need information on May…the Hero they call Ange…and Marcus, another of the Six Dark Peers.”

“Ange is a Hero from before the Guild restructured, so I don’t know any particulars, but I recall she died in the battle to protect Oslo in 2140.”

“…I see. What about Marcus?”

“Marcus…the Duke of the Bloody Arts, yes? My memory tells me he belonged to the Guild, but that was also before the restructuring. I have no details on him.”

“Hmm… Thank you anyway.”

“Matoi,” Emi called. “Just out of pure curiosity, what’ll happen to you once you change the future? There’s a few ways it can go down, according to various works of science fiction.”

“Space-time magicology theory dictates that causality correction occurs when the future changes following a significant divergence in a space-time branch. To put it simply, if the future of doom is averted, then the end of this branch—the one where I exist—will vanish. As such, I would have never been created, and thus a paradox would occur. I predict I would disappear as a result. None of this has ever been observed, though, so it is only speculation.”

“Mm-hmm. Then what happens when someone from the future meets their past self?”

“We have no real data regarding that scenario, either, but I expect causality correction would prevent the two from meeting. The thoughts, words, and actions of the person in question or those around them would be synchronized to match. Otherwise I imagine that the moment the two selves met, the resulting paradox would amend the root self, and they both would disappear.”

“So if we change the future, you vanish…and if I meet my future self, both me and her disappear on the spot.”

“Affirmative.”

“Hmmm… I see. And you came here ready for that…”

“I don’t intend to use that as an excuse, but…I would appreciate if you could help me change the future. I understand this is shameless of me after having attacked you without explaining things first. I am truly sorry. But I still want you to help me.”

Emi, Sihlwald, and Veltol agreed immediately.

“I should apologize as well. Sorry. And of course, allow us to help.” Veltol spoke for everyone while wringing out the cloth. Then he whipped it open. “I’ve deemed your story to be trustworthy. The question of what to do exactly remains, but we do need to stop this future of doom.”

“I agree with Veltol. Hate it when weird stuff happens outside my knowledge,” said Sihlwald.

“How about you, Master Detective?” Veltol asked.

Emi smiled at him. “I was just looking for my father’s killer and now I’m embroiled in this stuff about the future and the Demon Lord and the end of the world… But hey, I’m not getting a job as big as this ever again. It’s gonna be fun. Let me help.”

Matoi’s mimetic muscle function suddenly turned on, and she broke into a smile, too.

Being in this time period all by herself meant she couldn’t be free of anxiety. But now, she had people to help her out.

“By the way, Matoi, what’s the probability of the future of doom occurring?” Emi asked.

“The current space-time divergence reading is 99.9999999999999999999999999999 percent.”

“That’s too many nines!” Sihlwald exclaimed.

“Virtually one hundred percent…,” Emi said.

“But not one hundred percent, right?” Veltol pointed out.

Emi, Matoi, and Sihlwald nodded emphatically.

“We may not have much time, but we also can’t clear that up right at this moment. Let’s do something about it before the divergence point comes.” Emi deftly collected the dust with a broom and continued: “So with that in mind, I will have you help me with my job.”

“Question. Is there a connection between your job and changing the future?” Matoi asked.

Emi nodded. “From what I gather, we might find the answer if we follow the tracks of the magi-eye serial killer—the Collector. I’ll explain. First, look at this.”

Emi took the documents on her desk over to the table.

“…Wouldn’t holographic documents be easier to handle?” Veltol asked.

“You don’t get it, Assistant! The vibe is what’s important here! It’s more fun when it’s handwritten, right? I could just display a hologram, but we’re going analog this time!”

“All right… Apologies. Continue.”

“Good. Matoi, to get you up to speed, there’s currently a case in Shinjuku where magi-eyes are getting stolen. Remember how you rescued me this morning? That was the culprit behind this case—my mother, Emilia Chabatake.”

“This morning…”

Matoi remembered the mummy priestess she saw in the back alley. That person was wearing old combat vestments with the Guild’s symbol on it.

She searched her memory for Emilia Chabatake’s name and found results.

“There is record of Emilia Chabatake’s Hero name being Priestess. She was erased from the Hero Corps registry on Gryphon 1, 2099 FE for the misappropriation of enigmas, along with multiple other violations. Only her name and the fact that she once belonged to the organization remain.”

“Delisted. I see… Please take a look at this.”

Emi spread out thin, translucent maps of cities like London, Marseille, and Aselun. Various spots were crossed out, with mug shots and murder times added next to them.

Veltol recognized the photos. “The Collector’s victims?”

“Yes. These are all the victims and the locations of their murders. They’re all different species, genders, and ages. Now, my dear Sihlwald, what do you think is the common link between these individuals?”

“Meee?!” Sihlwald screeched. She hadn’t been paying much attention, as she assumed nobody would ask her anything. “Uhh, the magi-eyes…? Right…?”

“Yes, the magi-eyes, but there is one more thing.”

“The locations of the murders,” said Veltol.

“Exactly! Good job, my dear assistant.” Emi pointed at Veltol.

“Wait, how? They’re all over the world.”

“No, no, Sihlwald.” Matoi grabbed the maps and laid them on top of each other.

The maps were all the same scale, and thanks to the thin paper, everyone could see how the cross marks matched up.

“The coordinates overlap,” Matoi noted.

“Exactly,” said Emi. “The Collector has an MO. First, the location of the murder; second, the time of the murder. There is a precise interval from the first to the last murder in each city. And there is always a magic circle at the scene of the murder. The way I see it, the Collector must be carrying out some sort of ritual.”

“A ritual?” Matoi asked.

Emi nodded. “If we treat the magic circles made during the magi-eye thefts as a small-scale ritual, then perhaps the entire series of killings might be a large-scale ritual.”

“Using the movements of the sun and stars—the rhythm of time—and preparing the flow and formation of the aether lines—that is, the exploitation of land—are fundamentals in ritualistic magic,” Veltol added.

“Does that mean the Collector is connected to the future of doom?” said Matoi.

“Yep,” replied Emi, “and this supports it further.”

She produced a few photographs taken with a film camera too old even to be considered an antique. The photos showed magic circles drawn in blood.

“These magic circles… There is a star-reading technic mixed in.”

“You are very knowledgeable, Assistant. Yes, it’s astrology. And these are to obtain foresight from Horodict, the god of the past and the future—a technic for predicting the future. I always wondered why that would be in the magic circles, and it all clicked when the talk about changing the future came up. Astrology is all about seeing the future. There is a great chance the small rituals are for predicting future events.”

Emi paused for a moment.

“And one more thing. The crime scenes are all beyondized locations, although there’s some variation in scale.”

“Beyondized?” Sihlwald repeated the word she did not recognize.

“Beyondization is a form of spatial fluctuation, Sister. It is a phenomenon that causes anomalies in what existed in the affected space, or even in the space itself. A good example would be Yokohama’s spatial dis—”

“Ahh! Yeah! All right, I got it now, Veltol!”

Emi giggled at Sihlwald’s reaction and added, “Beyondization is most common wherever the flow of aether is stagnant, and the places and things that exist in such spaces tend to receive power from the belief of rumors or the fear of urban legends—in other words, faith. This can be anywhere from a cursed hospital to an abandoned City Guard station infested with zombies, Mistrag ghosts, slit-mouthed women, or human-faced slimes. Urban legends and rumors are given real forms and sometimes can be independent of the beyondized place. If you find it hard to understand, just consider that places, people, and things can all become living beyondizations.”

“You sure are well-versed in all that loony stuff, huh?” said Sihlwald.

“It just comes with the territory of following the Collector.”

“So to summarize, you believe that the future-prediction rituals happening in these special places means there might be a link to the future she talked about,” Veltol mused.

“Exactly.”

“…I am curious about the Collector’s magi-eye extraction rituals. I cannot let the Collector roam free, either, personally. But wouldn’t you say you are making a big jump to that conclusion?” Veltol asked.

Emi nodded. “I realize it’s farfetched to claim the future hinges on the Collector’s rituals. But what if we add my causality interference value into the mix?”

“What now?” Sihlwald tilted her head.

“My causality interference value is at max, and I am following the Collector, who is carrying out small-scale rituals for predicting the future… I have trouble believing this stuff is unrelated. Perhaps the Collector is trying to conduct a big ritual that would change the future. Add to that Matoi from the future; Veltol, who will destroy the world; and his subordinate, Sihlwald. Everyone related to the future of doom is gathered here. I can’t help but feel like someone is maneuvering things behind the scenes. I expect the Collector’s causality interference value is just as big as mine.”

“Hmm… I understand. Pursuing the Collector matches my original intention, too,” said Veltol. “And we only have two days until causality is set in stone. We must act on your idea unless we find something more likely. Then our next goal will be to look for and capture the Collector. Everyone agree?”

All present nodded.

“By the way,” Matoi added, “where do you predict the Collector will attack next?”

“Heh-heh. This is where we go back to my foreshadowing about the big job before our detective meeting!” Emi grinned from ear to ear. “As for where I predict she’ll appear next…”

CHAPTER THREE

Five Heroes

Month of the Gryphon, Day 2, 2099 FE, 20:11

Shinjuku’s underground district.

Darkness was buried in the depths of the Shinjuku underground. Here, a machine used the immortals as fuel to support the city—the Immortal Furnace.

To keep this controversial fact hidden, the highly influential megacorporation IHMI restricted access to the underground. However, even more darkness spread despite the corporation’s wishes.

The avenue known as the Roost, in the ruins of the underground district of the former Shinjuku ward. An unofficial area of Shinjuku City that used the underground prior to the Fantasion, and the ruins buried in it.

Vagabonds without Familias, criminals unable to return to the surface, and members of the Yakuza Guild who conducted incognito shakedowns lived there. Needless to say, it was not a safe place. Not even the City Guard approached this area lightly.

The back alleys of Kabukicho Street and Outer Shinjuku were full of danger at every corner, but from Emi’s point of view, this Roost was far seedier.

“So this is the famous Roost…,” said Emi. “Heh. I’d heard of it, but it really is one spicy place. I’d received an inquiry about solving the beyondization here, and it is exactly where I expect the Collector to attack next. Let’s get it over with, yeah? Before the Collector creates another victim.”

“You would have sounded so brave and gallant if only you weren’t clinging to my back…,” Veltol remarked.

Emi was cowering behind Veltol and holding tight to his detective coat.

“No, no, no, I’m not scared, okay? It’s just, you know how it is, right?”

“Heh. Worry not; you have three veterans with you here. Any problem can be solved with violence. Simple, isn’t it?”

“Yep. Love me some violence,” said Sihlwald.

“Suggestion. I would appreciate if you don’t include me in your violent fantasies,” added Matoi.

Visibility was limited in the Roost, as one would expect of the underground. Cords hung from the ceiling, and the light in the narrow corridor just barely let you see the face of the person next to you. There were plenty of dark spots just a few steps away.

There were caution tape and blue tarps all over, people surrounding metal drum fires, and small shops with who-knows-what for sale under cover of darkness. Long, thin containers that were either merchandise or part of the surroundings—it was hard to tell—emitted cloying purple smoke.

“Urgh, it reeks… This place stinks… This feels like the end of the line…,” Sihlwald grumbled while twitching her nose.

The stagnation created crushing pressure that choked everyone present. The people passing by sped up in either fear or retreat.

Chaos, gloom, and clutter.

The vagabonds and clearly shady characters eyed the odd quartet with contempt.

“It feels like we’re in a dungeon…,” Matoi remarked.

She looked around and ran a visual scan, while Emi kept clinging to Veltol’s back.

“Yeah, they say this used to be a dungeon,” Emi told her. “There’s no monsters anymore, but maybe they’re deeper in.”

They made their way through the crowds.

“So what is our destination like?” Matoi asked.

“Sort of a haunted spot. Apparently, the beyondized subway station is called the Man-Eating Gyoen. This is actually my first time here, too, given the kind of place this is, but it should be around this area…”

They arrived at a lifeless white building that was nothing like a subway or dungeon.

“You’re the detective who’s gonna solve the beyondization?” came a hoarse voice from behind them.

It was a stern-looking dwarf man wearing a gray robe.

In place of his eyes was a visor implant, and his mouth was covered by a large gas mask; his expression was unreadable.

“You could tell?” said Emi.

“Well, your outfit says it all… But anyway, I’m your client. We coulda just left this place alone, but some idiots hear the rumors about how it’s haunted, and they come to test their courage or record videos and livestreams.” The dwarf furrowed his brow under the mask. “There’s an order to things, even here. We’re all a buncha black sheep who can’t leave, and some don’t wanna be bothered by outsiders visiting. So if you can do something about it, then be my guest. Do whatever it takes if it gets the job done. I’ll make sure you’re safe going in and outta the Roost.”

“But not inside the Roost?” Veltol asked.

The dwarf nodded. “Sorry, can’t do nothin’ about that. The dangers of the underground ain’t like the dangers of the Roost. You can get in and get out easily if you go alone, but…”

“But?”

“If you go in with multiple people, one of ’em disappears once you leave. That thing eats you. Everyone says they went in with somebody else, but they were gone when they came back.”

“One person disappears… That must be this beyondization’s quirk.” Emi held her chin in thought while still clinging to Veltol. “I’ll have the young’uns wait by the entrance. Tell them once you’re out, and I’ll send you the money.”

“Okay, that’s fine,” the dwarf replied. “Fellas, let’s do this. We’ll be done in no time.”

“…Are you sure…? Okay, it’s in your hands now…,” said Veltol.

The dwarf turned around and disappeared into the crowd.

“Question. How exactly does one solve beyondization?”

“Good question, my dear Matoi. Let me ask you a question of my own: How do you think we can solve the Man-Eating Gyoen, which is this job’s goal?”

“Unclear. My memory does not contain data on confronting beyondization.”

“It’s very simple.” Emi raised a finger. “Reveal the truth.”

“The truth?”

“Beyondizations other than simple spatial distortion have a cause, a process, a reason, a characteristic, a nature to them. Some are unable to keep their power once their core is revealed. It’s just like how mysteries weaken once you know the basis for them; if you find out a ghost was actually your shadow or a tree, you’ll no longer be scared.”

“Which means solving the mystery of the Man-Eating Gyoen is the key?”

“Exactly. Let’s go, then. And watch out for that thing about one person disappearing.”

“Will you keep on hanging onto my coat or will you learn some dignity?”

“Look here, Assistant. Look at all the dignity oozing out of my hand.”

“Eugh, that’s sweat, you wimp! Okay, move! On with it!”

The rambunctious group entered the Man-Eating Gyoen—the location of their job and the predicted next crime scene of the Collector.

The emergency door on the pure-white wall was the entrance to the beyondization.

It was a long, dark hallway. White, square tiles covered the floor, fitted with guidance tiles for the visually impaired. White lights hung from the ceiling at regular intervals, illuminating the black and yellow signs reading MARUNOUCHI LINE and OEDO LINE. It was a reproduction of the subway corridors of Shinjuku before the Fantasion.

“Hmm? What the—? Isn’t this bigger on the inside?” Sihlwald said.

“Spatial contradictions between the interior and exterior are a characteristic of beyondization. The beyondized former Shinjuku Station also has an impossibly long escalator.” Emi paused. “Anyway, was there a sort of membrane in the entrance?”

Emi’s magi-eye let her see the flow of mana in the air. It picked up a thin, translucent film.

“Yes. I couldn’t see it, but I felt it,” said Veltol.

“My sensors showed a small reaction, too, but I could not analyze it,” said Matoi.

“I had no idea!” said Sihlwald.

The four continued walking, but only Emi kept staring at the Roost’s entrance behind them.

There was a spatial contradiction compared to the outside of the Man-Eating Gyoen. It was a common spatial disturbance seen in beyondization.

The same background continued no matter how long they walked. Faint white shadows would sometimes pass by, and murmurs would sound in the infinite hallways.

“Creepy… What are those noises?” Sihlwald asked.

“Ghosts,” said Emi.

“Ghosts, eh…? Hard to tell what kind of ghost, since there’s so many.”

“Beyondization tends to occur in places with stagnant aether. Fear, rumors, and thoughts pile up like sediment, and they manifest as pseudo-mysteries. This place took on the shape of the subway, and the aether created ghosts out of the lingering thoughts. By the way, we call strong, malicious lingering thoughts wraiths or specters,” Emi explained with a smug look on her face, while still holding on to Veltol.

“Wait,” Veltol said.

Once they left the accessway toward the ticket gates, a noise echoed from afar.

“Stay back, Emi.” He pushed her away.

“Something’s coming,” Sihlwald said.

“Distance: fifty…ten!” Matoi exclaimed.

The noise turned into thunder. The wall ahead on the right-hand side burst. Two shadows jumped from the other side.

One was a fox therian with a single blue eye, their body wrapped in bandages and dressed in clerical vestments. The other was a humanoid black magi-gear with a black greatsword.

The black MG swung its sword, and the therian repelled it.

“Who are these people?!”

“Those two freaks are fighting!”

Veltol and Sihlwald were shocked at the odd pair they had never seen before.

“I knew you’d be here…Mom…!”

“That’s the MG from this morning!”

Emi and Matoi, who had seen these two figures before, cried out.

The MG seemed to have the overwhelming advantage.

An MG was too powerful for a human to fight to begin with. Some superhumans were able to stand toe to toe with certain MGs, but they were extremely rare; a single individual could not defeat an MG.

The MG’s greatsword sliced Emilia’s arm, yet bandages stretched out of the stump and formed a new arm in its place.

“Damn… Why won’t even an immortal slayer kill her?!” the MG pilot spat in a robotic voice as he and Emilia clashed.

He turned the MG’s head toward Emi’s group, and its visor’s sensors caught sight of them.

“Ah! You’re the girls from this morning! You should leave now! The place is beyondized, and we’re in the middle of a…fight…”

Its voice quieted down.

“That hair… Those eyes… That face… You’re…?”

His eyes under the helmet opened wide; it was clear he was looking at one particular man.

“Hm? Do you know me?” Veltol asked.

“Finally, I found you. You will die here…!”

The MG pilot’s mouth clearly twisted into a smile.

“VELTOOOL!”

The small MG activated its shoulder and hip thrusters, raised the greatsword above its shoulder, and ignored Emilia to charge straight at Veltol.

“Whoa?! He’s coming, Assistant!”

“What’s with this guy?!” Sihlwald exclaimed.

“Let me kill you, Veltol!”

Meanwhile, Veltol donned his black armor with a practiced motion and activated a spell.

“I have no idea what this is about, but… Gradschere!”

Two swords clashed, and sparks flew.

“Who are you?!”

“Didn’t the silver-haired woman tell you?! Zenol! I’m Zenol!”

“You?! You claim to be Zenol?! Perfect! I shall see from your swordsmanship whether you are the real thing or not!”

The MG increased its output. The two fighters destroyed the ticket gates as they jumped backward.

“Assistant!”

Emi’s voiced echoed through the Man-Eating Gyoen.

“Dammit! I finally get to see you in person, and now my head is buzzing! You will die so I can get back my peace of mind, Veltol!”

“Consider yourself fortunate, fool! You will be my next plaything!”

The Demon Lord and the Swordman reached the beyondized subway platform after crashing through multiple walls. It was impossible to tell what station this beyondized subway formed by communal subconscious was based on. Perhaps it never existed in the first place.

The foes faced each other on opposite sides of the train tracks.

“I am certain of it now.”

“Yeah? Of what?”

“You are not the Zenol I know. You cannot be.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Considering Marcus’s betrayal, I felt the same might have happened to Zenol… But I see now that was an insult to his loyalty.”

A warning about the doors closing sounded as a train ran between them.

Present-day Shinjuku had no subways, per underground development restrictions. This train, too, was produced by the beyondization.

The train’s doors opened, and refrains of illusions of commuters passed by as the two foes entered the train from opposing doors. They were within reach of each other.

“Scoundrel tainting the name of my loyal subject, I shall rid you of the weight of that name, along with your head!”

“All this damn noise in my head—it’s because of you! Just die!”

The two swung their weapons at the same time. Veltol’s Gradschere and Zenol’s gunsword clashed. The aether impact caused a blast, and the thunderous burst of mana shook the train’s cramped interior.

With each of the following clashes, the resulting pressure cut the handrails, wrecked the seats, and blew away the hand straps as though a storm had blown through the vehicle.

“Dell Ray!”

A black flash shot out from Veltol’s hand, and Zenol parried it with his blade as he kept charging.

A thought occurred to Veltol as he crossed swords with the man claiming to be Zenol: He is strong.

The MG was only the size of full body armor, yet it overwhelmed the power of an Ashed Dawn, the large fourth-gen MG Veltol had fought once before. And the pilot’s skill complemented the MG’s power.

After the fight in Yokohama, Machina had told Veltol about the person in armor calling himself Zenol, and now that he faced him, he was sure of it: This was not him.

But still…!

This man’s swordsmanship was vastly different to the strongest swordsman of the Immortal Kingdom and the mentor of Veltol himself.

Zenol was a master of all martial arts, but in swordsmanship in particular, nobody in the Immortal Kingdom could surpass him. He wielded a sword his size with the levity of a twig and slayed a dragon with a hunting dagger.

Veltol had seen his sword close at hand for a long time. He could never mistake it—and thus he was confused by the contradiction. The man before his eyes could not possibly be Zenol, yet his swordsmanship was that of Zenol.

“You will die here, Veltol!”

“I am curious about what you’re hiding behind your helmet. I shall tear it off and see for myself!”

“Just try! If I don’t kill you first, that is!” Zenol’s camera-eyes lit up. “Festinalente, boot up!”

For only a moment, red circuitry-like light ran across the entire black MG.

Then Zenol moved, and Veltol could not keep up.

He saw a slash.

He felt a cut.

“…!”

The blade of Zenol’s turret-equipped greatsword glowed, then slashed Veltol from his shoulder to his side, soul armament and all.

The mana produced by the slash blew Veltol away. He smashed through the gangways of three cars before landing after he recovered his balance in the air.

His skin showed from the cuts in his armor, and blood dripped from his wounds.

My regeneration is slow. His sword…or rather, the blade…emanates mana with immortal-slaying power. That is not a big problem in and of itself, but his speed is another thing entirely. And not only has that increased, but so has his reaction speed… This new power is interesting. Now, how shall I conquer it?

“Tsk, I used up all my shots on that damn mummy. What a waste,” Zenol said while charging in from the next subway car, cutting short Veltol’s train of thought.

The red light was gone from Zenol’s armor, and his speed had lessened.

“Veltol…I can’t stand you!”

“You should have taken me down with the first strike. You no longer have a chance of defeating me!”

The choices were made at the same time.

“Rampage in the black sky…”

“Ooze in the shadowy prison…”

Upon chanting the short incantations, they summoned:

“Verna—”

“Zeno—”

It happened just before they freed the armaments in their souls.

Multiple coincidences occurred—or perhaps it was fate. In this beyondization—a place of aether stagnation—where Veltol’s and Zenol’s mental wavelengths converged from the heat of battle, almost exactly when they unleashed their armaments, these two souls were momentarily linked through the aether.

“Al.”

A vision of a memory.

“Altol.”

A memory of the long, ancient past.

A memory of before the Demon Lord became immortal.

“Altol, my sweet child…”

The old memory flowed like a flood from past to future.

“Good morning, Your Highness Altol Altemud Velsvalt.”

“Altol the White Wind. I heard the news. You accomplished a wonderful victory in battle again?”

“I’d be so elated if you became king, Big Brother.”

“I wouldn’t argue if Dad gave you the throne. You’re a stellar little brother.”

“You would call me, an immortal servant, your friend…?”

“Father! Why not me?! Why did you choose a bastard?!”

“Should I do you the same as that Velvet manservant?”

“From Altol the White Wind to Veltol the Black Wind. Excellent, isn’t it?”

“We’ll start with my first request. You shall revere me as your elder sister.”

“From now on, I will serve you as your Dark Sword, Zenol.”

“Very well. I, Ralsheen, shall help you so long as you keep me entertained.”

“Y-your humble Marcus would be honored to serve you for liiife!”

“Yes. Even if my body turns to ash, I will serve you.”

“Create a world where we can stand side by side… Yes, that would be…wonderful.”

These recollections were followed by crossed memories from the resonance of souls.

Veltol and Zenol saw the same memory at the same time.

Month of the Kraken, Day 26, 1596 CE

The throne chamber of the subterranean Demon Castle’s inverted keep.

Six people waited among overlapping aether lines, in a passageway where aether sprang forth from the planet.

One of them, a half-therian with handsome, masculine features, had a small, vertical cut next to his lips. He closed his eyes and awaited his master’s arrival.

“Duke Zenol.”

The half-therian man’s wolflike ears twitched at the voice.

The speaker was a human with bluish-black hair, holding a pewter staff.

“Duke Ralsheen…,” Zenol said, looking at the man who called his name.

The Blue Storm.

All Six Dark Peers were of equal standing officially, but as Ralsheen aided in his master’s rule as chancellor, he was in reality the Immortal Kingdom’s number two.

“May I ask a question?”

Ralsheen’s voice was quiet.

“Why did you not kill yourself?”

But pregnant with anger.

“You understand well that mobilizing the Order without royal command is out of the question. An unforgivable act. We are not lawless beasts, are we?”

“Excuse me, Duke Ralsheen…,” replied a girl with silver hair, the Duchess of the Dazzling Blaze. Her gaze held a sense of duty.

Sihlwald the Black Dragon yawned, uninterested.

May of the Mournful Firmament gazed into space, her mind on something else.

Marcus of the Bloody Arts looked down, shaking.

Machina felt she needed to stop this conflict if none of her other colleagues were going to do anything. The responsibility was reflected in the look in her eyes.

“Duke Zenol acted for the sake of Lord Veltol and this country, and he—”

“Duchess Machina.” Ralsheen spoke softly, in great contrast to his tone with Zenol. “Even if it is for the sake of the country or its king, mobilizing the Order of the Karmic Sword without our lord’s permission is unbefitting of its leader. If we create a precedent for breaking protocol in the name of the king, His Majesty will lose all authority. Duke Zenol’s punishment is necessary for the sake of this country.”

“That is…true, but—”

“It’s fine, Duchess Machina.” Zenol, too, spoke softly to her. “I understand. I have no intention of excusing my behavior. I will accept the punishment. I never considered asking His Majesty for forgiveness.”

“Then, as I asked at the beginning, why did you not kill yourself? We may be immortal, but constant dying wears our souls out. You could have thrown yourself into the fire. You should have welcomed near-endless pain.”

“I am His Majesty’s sword, his possession; only he can end me. I have not the freedom to make that decision on my own. Only he does.”

“You dare say that now…?”

Ralsheen sighed.

“Fine. Then I shall personally put you down. We couldn’t possibly bother Lord Veltol with this.”

The Blue Storm raised his staff.

“Only His Majesty may judge me. And if anyone dares lay a hand on His Majesty’s property, it is my job to stop them.”

The Karmic Sword reached for the handle of the sword on his side.

“Foolish Duke Zenol… You pile sin upon sin?”

“Duke Ralsheen, if you will not stand back, I will take you on.”

True enmity clashed between Dark Peers. Sharp tension crossed the throne chamber.

Machina asked the others for assistance.

“L-Lady Sihlwald, help me stop them!”

“Hnn? Let them do as they please.”

“May, please, do something!”

“No… Leave them be. Although Veltol will get mad if they get the chamber dirty.”

Frowning, Machina gave up and cast Marcus a glance, just in case. The red vampire kept looking down and shaking.

“Lord Veltol doesn’t wish for you two to fight! Please calm—”

Machina spoke up, feeling there was no one but her to do something, when…

“Everyone.”

…May’s small but clear voice sounded.

“Veltol is here.”

At the same time, a black wind blew.

The sultry aether in the chamber cooled down in an instant.

The animosity between Ralsheen and Zenol vanished immediately. But not of their own wills—and everyone present understood.

The door of the throne chamber opened with a heavy creak.

Everyone naturally kneeled toward the throne and lowered their heads.

Veltol’s armor rustled, and his shoes tapped as he gallantly walked by the Six Dark Peers and up to the throne. He sat and glanced down at the bowing Peers.

“Now.”

With just a word, the pressure on the Six Dark Peers grew exponentially heavier.

It was the Demon Lord’s black power. The essence of the Demon Lord in his prime, covering all Alnaeth in fear.

“Zenol, Duke of the Karmic Sword.”

“Yes, my lord!”

“Your punishment has been decided. If there is anything you would like to say, do so now.”

“No, there is nothing for my part. But I would like to make one thing clear.”

“And that is?”

“Everything was done under my judgment. My subordinates act per my orders, and I would like to request you not charge them for their crimes.”

“Very well.”

“I am honored by your mercy, my lord.”

“Let us begin the execution of Zenol, Duke of the Karmic Sword.”

Veltol summoned the black sword of Vernal with a short incantation and transformed it into the silver sword of Vernal Diel.

Demon Lord Veltol’s silver sword could slash through souls and execute immortals.

Veltol walked up to Zenol and placed the blade on his neck.

“Any last words, Zenol?”

“No… No, I mean—yes. One thing.”

“Speak.”

“Please fulfill our wish: the foundation of the Eonian Kingdom.”

“Granted. I shall see to it. Zenol, let us reunite at the zenith of rebirth.”

A voice sounded the moment before he swung the immortal-slaying blade:

“W-wait, my king…”

Marcus raised his head and ceased his trembling.

“Marcus. I allow you to speak…but think very well before you do.”

Veltol’s glare pierced through him.

It was only a gaze. Yet it was enough for Marcus’s breath to turn sharp and fast.

“D-D-D-D-Duke Zenol deserves to be punished. However…” Marcus gulped. He kept his glance down as he continued shakily: “But his actions came from true loyalty valued above his own life… I would like for you to please consider a merciful sanction…”

It was not Veltol, but Ralsheen who answered.

“Duke Marcus, you are wise enough to understand, but it appears you did not listen to what I talked about with Machina moments ago. If he truly acted out of loyalty, he could not possibly ignore His Majesty’s will. Besides, Duke Zenol has accepted the punishment. What else is needed?”

“Duke Ralsheen is right. My actions meant betrayal against His Majesty. I have no reservations about receiving the punishment.”

Even then, Marcus showed no intention of backing down.

“To me, the Immortal Kingdom means my immortal kinsmen themselves.”

“And?” Veltol said coldly.

“And Duke Zenol is like this country’s heart, essential to building the coming age of the immortals. Please… Please spare him by taking my life instead.”

“Duke Marcus?!” Zenol’s eyes widened in shock.

Everyone’s did. Even Sihlwald looked surprised.

“No,” Veltol replied immediately. “You cannot be a substitute for him. And Zenol cannot be a substitute for you. Refrain, Marcus.”

“Then…”

Marcus gulped. Strong will glowed in his eyes.

“Then…after Duke Zenol falls by your hand…I will fall by my own.”

Not only were Zenol, Ralsheen, and the other Peers taken aback by what he said, but even Veltol could not hide his surprise.

“…Why go that far, Marcus?”

“As I said, Duke Zenol is essential to building the coming age of the immortals. Losing someone who cares as much for this nation as him will be a great loss for the nation’s future. I have no other intent. That is all.”

Marcus’s hands touched the floor, still shaking. Only his eyes as he looked at Veltol remained strong. A will of strong, pure faithfulness that had overcome all fear and hatred.

“Hahh…” Veltol sighed and returned his sword to his soul. “I cannot lose two of my Six Dark Peers. I shall forgive your crime of independent action in ending the child of prophecy. In the end, it was only an issue of my own pride. However, I cannot overlook your crime of mobilizing the Order without my command. That is inexcusable as its leader. You will be dismissed from the Order of the Karmic Sword. Myneus shall take over. You will be in confinement before being assigned as sword of the guard. That is all. Notify Myneus.”

“Yes, my lord!” Zenol bowed deeply.

“Marcus.”

“Y-yes!”

“You’ve turned crafty, taking yourself as hostage.”

“I—I am overwhelmed by your praise!”

“Your determination smoothed things over this time, but that will not be happening again. And you, too, are part of the blood that fuels the Immortal Kingdom. Do not forget that.”

“…Yes! Thank you, my lord!”

The Demon Lord left the throne chamber.

Marcus kept his head low until Veltol was gone.

“Duke Marcus…I must apologize,” said Zenol.

“It’s all right. I meant what I said. The king still needs you.”

“…Why did you suggest taking your own life?”

“Why?” Marcus wore a smile torn by nerves and exhaustion, but still frank. “Aren’t we friends?”

He left the throne chamber on unsteady feet.

Then Zenol walked up to Ralsheen. “Ral… I…I have…”

“You seem to be under the wrong impression. I do not hate or begrudge you, Zeno. You’re my dear friend and a reliable comrade, honestly.”

Ralsheen’s voice was calm, although Zenol could not look him in the eye.

“I simply prioritized my status as His Majesty’s subject over our friendship,” he continued. “That’s all. I thought there was no fitting punishment other than death, but His Majesty has given his judgment. I have no right or desire to say more. Congratulations on being assigned sword of the guard. Now then, Zeno. I must leave.”

“…I’ll go with you, Ral.”

They walked side by side out of the throne chamber.

The Dazzling Blaze, the Black Dragon, and the Blue Storm watched them go.

“So are they buddies or enemies?” Sihlwald asked.

“I think they’re buddies. Although it is a messy friendship,” Machina said.

“Good thing our friendship isn’t messy, right?” said May.

Right before Zenol departed the throne room, he glimpsed May grabbing Machina’s hands tight.

Veltol and Zenol smiled the same smile from different places.

The crossing of memories finished, and their consciousnesses returned to the present.

“Was that…?” Veltol said to himself. “Zenol’s memories…?”

Veltol was sure the man before his eyes had seen the same thing. Their souls synchronized, a feeling he had only felt enough times to count on one hand across his long life.

It occurred over just one second in reality, but his mind being taken off the battle was lethal. Yet the enemy took no advantage of it.

“You saw that, too…?” Zenol was equally paralyzed. “I… I…!”

He covered his face with one hand and glared at the Demon Lord from between his fingers.

“Who…are you…?”

“I… That’s…that’s what I want to know!”

Zenol vanished via teleportation magic.

“Ahh, there’s still more! There’s more even here! So much more!” Emilia cried.

“Mom!”

Right after Veltol and Zenol smashed through the ticket gates, Matoi switched her priority to protecting Emi.

“Stay back, Emi!”

Emilia charged toward her daughter, a magi-eye owner.

Matoi ran a scan on the Collector that she wasn’t able to that morning.

Emi’s deduction was right. The Collector was also involved in the future of doom.

“Leave iiit! To meee!”

Sihlwald twirled in the air and built up momentum for a kick.

“Wait, Sihlwald!” Matoi cried. “We must capture her first!”

“Huh?”

Matoi was too late.

The kick buried into Emilia’s torso, bending her body and spinning her until she was split in two. Her upper half left a crater when it crashed into the wall.

“…Oops, I killed her.”

“S-Sihlwald?!”

“Negative. It’s not over.”

The Collector was not dead. Bandages stretched from both halves of her body and put them back together.

Few vertebrates could survive being torn apart. This meant…

“Hmm? She’s immortal?” said Emi.

It was the logical answer.

But Matoi and Sihlwald furrowed their brows.

“Something is wrong…”

“Yeah… She didn’t feel like an immortal.”

“My scan didn’t detect an immortal factor… She can’t be.”

“Then how did she regenerate? Is it the bandages…?”

Emilia took heavy step after heavy step forward.

The crater in the wall was gone, too. Even the smashed ticket gates were back to normal.

“Footsteps of the coffin! Grail of the cross! Ahh, my calling! To project the truth of the eyes of the Horodict! You shall see, you shall witness, you shall be enraptured!”

Sihlwald frowned at Emilia’s nonsense. “Ugh, what’s with this woman…?”

“Mom!” Emi stepped forward as if to stop Emilia.

All of a sudden, Emilia covered her face with both hands.

“Hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

She scratched her face while cackling.

“Hey, I don’t think capturing her will be of any use if she can’t hold a conversation. What now, Matoi?” Sihlwald asked.

“Either way, we must neutralize her. No matter the cost.”

Emilia bent over and tightened her legs as though they were the string of a bow.

“Gahee!”

She dashed like an arrow.

Matoi snapped her fingers to create a weapon out of the iron pole beside her with Metal Rule.

However…

“Huh?”

…the pole showed no change.

Her idea circuit recognized the activation of Metal Rule. Yet there was no result. And she had no time to investigate why.

She snapped her fingers again and grabbed her other arm with Gulagalad.

“Ferrueh Merza!”

A silver sickle appeared.

Matoi’s magiroid frame was also made of metal. She turned her arm’s frame into a weapon.

Part of a sickle unified with the arm that protruded from her skincover.

“Shove! Love! Void! Glove! Unlove…”

Emilia kept spouting nonsense while Matoi sprinted to neutralize her.

Emilia was emptyhanded.

Matoi raised her weapon. Her foe was too slow.

Cut, cut, cut, cut.

Four spots. Even a high-level immortal could not recover quickly from having all limbs sliced by an immortal slayer forged by a god.

Emilia was supposed to be neutralized. But just as the bandages did before, they took human form and healed her.

“She is not a regular immortal…,” Matoi mused.

“My friend from the future.”

Again, out of nowhere.

“…!” Matoi was paralyzed for a moment as Emilia spoke to her softly.

“I respect you. You travel from so far away and do not regret paying the price with your life. You are already shining bright.”

“How did you know I’m from the future? What else do you know?”

“Everything.”

“Everything?”

“Everything about the process of this doom. But that is beyond the infinite, and I am missing a fragment. Next time. Next time is the last. This is the end of the invisible doom.”

“Next is the last…? What do you—?”

“Let us meet again.”

Matoi’s sensors detected teleportation.

She snapped her fingers again and turned Ferrueh Merza into wires to try capturing Emilia. Since she used part of her own body, she had plenty of data; she could maintain this change for far longer than with a building’s steel frames.

“You’re not getting away!”

Swampman allowed Matoi to teleport with her target if she was touching them. She could follow Emilia so long as her wires reached the woman.

But Emilia disappeared into thin air just by a hair’s breadth.

The moment before she vanished, an amulet of six eyes showed from under her vestments.

“…She got away. I’m sorry.”

The wires coming from Matoi’s elbow turned to dust, as did the arm she’d used to create them.

“No, it’s fine… Can you get your arm back…?” Emi asked timidly.

Matoi nodded. “My frame is made of a special biometal. It will return to normal in a couple of hours after flushing it with mana. Additionally, my skincover is made of red dragon cells, so that will regenerate with the frame.”

“Wow… The year 2149 sure is amazing, huh?”

“It was a desperate attempt due to the lack of materials. A formidable match for Gulagalad.”

“Hey, guys,” Sihlwald said. “How come all the holes from this fight and the earlier one are gone?”

The floor and walls that had been wrecked by the battle were back to normal.

“Ah, that is because we’re in the Man-Eating Gyoen. Beyondized places and things can revert to their original form,” Emi explained.

“I see,” said Matoi. “So that’s why the gates look normal.”

“It’s also this power to revise that causes subway riders’ residual thoughts to repeat over and over.”

“Could that same power be why Gulagalad couldn’t manipulate the metal? It was neutralized by being corrected?”

“Yeah, that is likely…” Emi’s voice petered out as she became lost in thought.

“What happened, Emi? Did you notice something?”

“…I don’t really wanna say it, since I’m not sure about it yet…”

“Let me be the judge. Please don’t beat around the bush.”

“Okay.” Emi raised her hands in acquiescence. “I noticed something during the battle here. Basically, I think my mom—sorry, the Collector—is beyondized. The way she regenerates even though she’s not an immortal could be explained by the beyondization trying to revert her to her original self.”

“She’s beyondized?” said Sihlwald.

“People can be beyondized, too?” asked Matoi, who had little data on beyondization. She knew only the very basics.

“Rather, it would be more accurate to say they wear beyondization like a veil. There are cases of not only the buildings and things in the space but the organisms there being affected by the beyondization and acting like it themselves. I deduce that she might be an independent beyondization born from the hatred and fear directed at the Collector.”

“So what do we do now?” Sihlwald asked.

“Reveal the truth, like with any other beyondization. In the Collector’s case, that would be revealing her motives. And conveniently, we are here to expose a beyondization. Let’s consider it a trial of sorts. But we’re missing one of our team.”

“…Right, I forgot about Veltol. Is he okay? I’m sure he wouldn’t lose,” Sihlwald said.

“No,” Emi replied. “Never to a scoundrel like that.”

Veltol returned with a scowl on his face. “The knave took off in the middle of our bout.”

His armor was slashed from his shoulder to his side, the wound still healing. He swung his arm, and his outfit changed to the hunting cap and Inverness coat.

“Veltol, who was that guy?” Sihlwald asked.

“The man Machina met in Goar calling himself Zenol.”

“Whoa, wait, was he really Zenol? The guy’s poise was as sharp as Zenol’s, at least.”

“I cannot be one hundred percent certain… However, I am ninety percent sure he is not. Yet his movements resemble his too much. In any case, Emi, what about the other one? I believe that was the Collector, yes?”

“Sorry, she got away.”

“I see. Do not worry; we will have another chance.”

“Yeah,” said Emi. “And now, since we’ve got everyone here, let’s begin.”

“Begin what?” Sihlwald asked.

“What else?” Emi flicked the bill of her cap with a wink and a smile. “The completion of our job. The mystery is solved.”

“Oh right, we were here for a job.” Veltol nodded with a grin. “Allow your assistant the first attempt at a deduction. For starters, one can enter and leave the Man-Eating Gyoen without an issue so long as one is alone, yet when entering in a group, one person always disappears.”

“That must be the origin of its name. Why do people realize upon leaving…? Or rather, why don’t they realize until they leave?”

“Because they were together up until then.”

“Exactly!” Emi pointed a finger gun at Veltol. “You’re a smart assistant. Testimonies say the person disappears upon leaving, which means they should be with the others right until then… So when do they disappear?”

“…Isn’t it when they leave the Man-Eating Gyoen?” Matoi asked.

“Yes, that is the most obvious answer. However, I have something else in mind. My magi-eye allows me to see the flow of mana in the air, and I could see a sort of film in the Man-Eating Gyoen’s entrance… But when I looked back, the film was no longer there. I deduce that it acts as some sort of filter.”

“What do you mean?”

“I believe one person went missing the moment we crossed that film. Considering it disappeared after we came inside, the most natural deduction would be that it accomplished its function.”

“But aren’t we all here?”

“Matoi, do you know about the tanuki, the mystical beast?”

“Where did that come from…? Affirmative. I remember reading about it in The Wondrous World of Animals Encyclopedia. Member of the Mammalia class, order Carnivora, family Canidae, genus Nyctereutes. Memory tells me they went extinct after the Fantasion, alongside many other species.”

“Heh. You’re missing a crucial detail, Matoi. Allow me to add: Tanuki have the power to shapeshift,” Veltol said.

“Huh? No, that’s only legend. Real tanuki aren’t capable of such things…”

“That’s my assistant.” Emi nodded in satisfaction. “They say the tanuki can take on many forms. This Man-Eating Gyoen has a similar characteristic. If my deduction is correct—there is a tanuki among us.”

“…It’s not me,” Veltol said.

“I’m a dragon!” Sihlwald insisted.

“It’s not me, either,” Matoi said.

“And obviously, it isn’t me,” Emi added.

Matoi ran a scan but found no strange reaction. Everyone was normal.

“Upon entering, the beyondization reads the memories of its target and creates an identical being,” Emi began. “That is what I believe to be the truth behind the Man-Eating Gyoen. And the impostor…”

She pushed up the bill of her cap with her index finger.

“…is you, Sihlwald.”

Emi pointed at the Black Dragon.

Their surroundings swayed, accompanied by the sound of waves. The lifeless floor and walls peeled off like a shell, as did Sihlwald’s body.

The beyondization crumbled upon the revelation of its truth.

The clinically clean landscape of the Man-Eating Gyoen vanished, and the glum and filthy underground district of the Roost took its place. And…

“Sister.”

…a dragon girl stood alone in the middle of scattered human bones.

“Wahhh! Gahhh! Where were you guyyys?!” Sihlwald tearfully waved her arms and tackled Veltol.

“Gwuh!”

An adorable sight, but an impact of that degree would gravely injure a regular person.

“I ended up here and there was no exit and I tried breaking it but I couldn’t and I was soooo lonesome! Veltol! Hug me! Tightly!”

Sihlwald snuck into Veltol’s coat.

“Ohh, you poor dear. You want a candy, little Sihlwald?” Emi asked.

“Yeah!”

“Would you like to fondle my pectoral armor? I learned this is effective for such times from syncing with my sisters,” Matoi offered.

“Not unless you’re Hizuki-tier.”

“Grr!”

Matoi and Sihlwald began arguing, and the Black Dragon picked the bones up off the floor and threw them at the magiroid.

“These bones…,” Veltol murmured, checking the remains after dodging the barrage of bones. “Victims of the Man-Eating Gyoen, I assume… They must have ended up like this after getting trapped.”

“Question. Excuse me, Emi. Do you mind?” Matoi said.

“What is it?”

“How did you know Sihlwald was the impostor? My sensors couldn’t catch any anomalies. So how did you see through such a meticulous copy…?”

“Process of elimination,” Emi replied casually.

“Elimination?”

“First, I wasn’t the impostor, obviously. Next, you couldn’t be, either, since you’re a magiroid. At least, I thought the chances were low, since you’re a machine. Ah, I hope you’re not offended.”

“No offense taken. Please continue.”

“So that meant it was between my assistant and Sihlwald, and you saw how he was wearing that armor when he came back, yes?”

“…! If it was an exact copy of the person as they entered the space, it makes no sense that he would be wearing it, right?”

“Even if it was able to recreate his abilities, since the copy is a beyondization…”

“The revision would turn him back!”

“Exactly. His armor was damaged, and he was injured. With that in mind, I eliminated my assistant from the list of suspects and deduced that Sihlwald had to be the impostor.” Emi took a deep breath, then whispered, “Mother got away, but could we change the future?”

Matoi measured the space-time divergence rate.

“…! Divergence changed to 99.999999999999999999999998 percent!”

“That changes nothing!” Sihlwald yelled.

“No, Sister. It may be small, but it is nonetheless a change.”

Emi nodded. “That proves my hypothesis.”

“Yes… I may be able to fulfill my mission,” said Matoi. “The reason for my existence.”

Month of the Gryphon, Day 2, 2099 FE, 21:03

Shinjuku, from the rooftop of IHMI’s headquarters.

Zenol was speaking with his colleague through the aether comms while looking down at the streetlights from the skyscraper that essentially ruled the city.

“Wasn’t I sent to eliminate Emilia?” he asked.

Zenol responded to Ange’s ceremonious answer with a sigh.

Zenol was taken aback by her out-of-left-field question. “Collect enigmas and save the world, right? I still don’t really get it, though.”

A moment of silence. Despite the acknowledgement, Ange did not end the call.

Silence flowed with the night breeze.

She ended the call.

Zenol took off his helmet, exposing his face. He filled his lungs with cold air.

“The future, eh?”

Month of the Gryphon, Day 3, 2099 FE, 08:11

“Now then, folks.”

Veltol’s vigorous and beautiful voice echoed inside the Chabatake Detective Agency office.

“We solved the Roost case last night and proved the future can be changed. A great feat, but we have yet to solve the fundamental issue.”

Unlike Matoi, Emi and Sihlwald were not morning people, but Veltol’s clear voice made them naturally sit up straight.

They were holding their morning detective meeting.

“Let’s go over her actions up to now. If we infer that her crimes have a ritual meaning to them, there should be no change to the regularity of time and place. And most likely, considering the frequency of the crimes and the date and time of the causality outbreak point, the Collector’s next crime should be her last.”

“Yeah, I think the same,” Emi said.

“Which means we have some time until then. Hopefully we can get a lead and stop her beforehand,” Matoi added.

“Heh. Matoi, allow me to tell you something.” Veltol smiled boldly as he flicked the bill of a cap he was not wearing. “We know the time and place of the final battle. We have the advantage. There is only one thing for us to do.”

“And that is…?”

“Naturally, detective work,” he said confidently.

Matoi dropped her shoulders. “Analysis tells me that is very logical…”

“A calm mind is crucial in all circumstances,” said Emi. “Doing detective work like normal is the best option.”

“I suspect everyone but Emi lacks the experience to call detective work their normal,” Matoi noted.