Mahou Shoujo Ikusei Keikaku - Volume 3 - Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

PECHKA IN CREATUREWORLD

  Pechka

The real world had been cloudy for the whole maintenance period, with the chance of precipitation hovering between 50 and 70 percent. It had been a while since Pechka had last seen the sun, but regardless, now it did nothing for her. This sun had only been created for the purpose of illumination and didn’t stir any emotions in her. Same with the blowing wind and haze of dust. They had no meaning beyond serving as part of the backdrop.

Pechka squatted, stood, squatted, and stood again, pushing off her knees with her hands to get a good stretch.

Now logged in to the game again, Pechka was in the wasteland area, waiting for Clantail. Their habits were not going to change, even now that their memories were back. Her magical phone chirped, so she checked it. There was a message from Pfle.

This is Pfle. I want to convene. Tell me where you are and keep an eye on your surroundings.

Pechka wanted to meet up, too. She replied with her current location.

She launched the map application on her phone. It displayed three icons in the wasteland area: Clantail, Pechka, and Rionetta. Both Clantail and Rionetta were headed her way. It would be better to wait here rather than wander off somewhere herself.

As the wind threatened to blow away her hat, Pechka held it down with her left hand, breathing a sigh. Rionetta’s icon was there. She was relieved the other girl hadn’t unregistered from their party.

It wasn’t long before she heard hooves. Someone was racing toward her, kicking up dust. It was Clantail.

There were things Pechka wanted to talk about—namely what had happened before. There’d been so much at once, one thing after another, and she hadn’t been able to tell Clantail the whole story about Nonako. She and Rionetta had had a big fight, but even after that, Nonako had fought to protect Rionetta, and Pechka wanted to tell Clantail that. She also wanted to discuss the memories they’d regained.

Clantail stopped just over ten yards away from Pechka. Even at a distance, she seemed a little thin. Her cheeks had been rounder before the maintenance period. Her expression was hard. Her right hand floated halfway between reaching out to Pechka and dangling slack. Pechka was about to call out to her, but Clantail spoke first. She sounded like she was trying to keep her voice from trembling. “Lower your weapon.”

Pechka watched Clantail in puzzlement. But Clantail wasn’t looking at her. Her gaze was trained on something behind her.

Pechka got a whiff of roses, and something cold touched her neck. She felt metal, and the smell of tempered iron passed through her nostrils, along with the clinging scent of blood. Before Pechka could move a muscle, she was snatched by the back of her collar, flung around like so much cloth or paper, and slammed into the ground. Her magical phone rolled out from her pocket. She failed to catch her fall, and her back hit the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of her. She opened and closed her mouth soundlessly, unable to inhale.

The sun was at her attacker’s back, and its powerful glare obscured her expression from view. But Pechka could discern the outfit of the magical girl who’d thrown her: her pointed ears, winding vines, large roses, longbow, and javelins.

“Dinnae come nae closer.” She wasn’t talking to Pechka. That remark was for Clantail. She had been running up to try to save Pechka, and Melville was ordering her to stay away. “Git ye back.” Melville’s javelin was pointed at Pechka’s chin.

Pechka couldn’t make a sound. She couldn’t cry for help or run away—and not because her breath was gone. She was too frightened to move. I’ll do it now, I’ll do it now, she told herself, but when the moment came, she just trembled, unable to act.

She was unbearably terrified of the magical girl behind her and her casual acts of violence. But more than the viciousness itself, it was those vines, those roses, and those pointed ears that inspired such fear in Pechka. She remembered now—the one who’d forced them all into a bloodbath, the Musician of the Forest, Cranberry. Melville looked so much like her.

“Git ye back.”

Clantail did not move. Melville dug her toes into Pechka’s ribs and rolled her over. It happened so fast, Pechka couldn’t even be startled when a pain worse than hitting the ground shot from her fingertips to her brain. Melville’s heel was crushing Pechka’s right index finger, bending it much farther than it should go. Tears welled in Pechka’s eyes.

“Git ye back.” Melville lifted her heel and next destroyed Pechka’s middle finger on the same hand. Pechka clenched her teeth.

“Git ye back.”

Then her ring finger. Unable to bear it, Pechka cried out. Pain and fear controlled her body. She felt the retreating hoofbeats through the earth. Clantail was ceding to Melville’s demand and backing away. Not long after that, another set of footsteps approached.

“What is going on here?” It was Rionetta. She sounded so nonchalant. Pechka raised her head. Rionetta’s expression was casual, too. She looked strangely lopsided without her right sleeve, which had been missing since before the last maintenance period. “Well, you needn’t explain for me to grasp this situation.”

“Oh? Will ye be ’elpin’ me again?”

“The payment?” Rionetta asked.

“Same as ’en.”

“But the situation is different now. The threat to you is much greater now, isn’t it?”

“A shrewd imp, ’is one. Double?”

“Good-bye, then.”

“Hold on!” Clantail’s roar cut Rionetta and Melville’s conversation off. “What are you talking about?!”

As if she were taking a stroll, Rionetta stepped forward and gave Clantail, nailed to the spot as per Melville’s orders, a sidelong glance. “You speak as if I’m the peculiar one here. But isn’t it rather that all of you were simply oblivious? For ten billion yen, one would expect someone to die, don’t you suppose?”

“What…?!”

“’Twas bound t’come fer such terr’bly straenge creatures as magical gerls.”

Rionetta stopped in front of Pechka.

“Cranb’ry told me b’fore. She recounted t’me tha’ Akane be tryin’ to slay Cranb’ry in th’ospital, tha’ @Meow-Meow still be recallin’ sommo’ th’past after her mem’ries were chaenged, an’ tha’ Rionetta be mad for coin. She’ll do aught fer a price. Like Ah jussaid.”

Lazuline had always translated for Melville, but she wasn’t there now, so Pechka could only understand parts of what she was saying.

Cranberry had told Melville some things?

Like that Akane had tried to kill Cranberry in the hospital?

That @Meow-Meow had remembered a little, even after her memories were overwritten?

And that Rionetta was obsessed with money, and she’d do anything if she got paid?

“First threats,” said Rionetta, “and now you’re calling me money-obsessed? How vicious.”

“Rionetta…you…!” Clantail began.

Rionetta turned toward Clantail with a shrug. “I am not the only self-interested individual among us.” After another half turn, she grinned at Pechka. The claws shot out of her right hand, glinting bright in the overwhelming light of the sun, and swung for Melville’s neck. Melville raised her javelin to block the attack. The sound of metal clashing against metal and the harsh groaning of the javelin reached Pechka’s ears.

“Wha’ be this?” asked Melville.

“I can’t condone injuring Pechka’s hands. I made a promise. And besides, if I kill you, the game will be over, isn’t that right? I shan’t accept any requests from the Evil King.” This time, Rionetta lashed out with the claws on her left hand, and Melville grabbed her upper arm to block that strike as well.

“Stae ye back.” Melville wasn’t saying that to Pechka or Rionetta. That order was for Clantail. Gripping Rionetta’s left arm and blocking the right claw with her javelin, Melville kicked up at Rionetta’s jaw with her free leg.

Well, that was only a guess on Pechka’s part, though, once she had witnessed the result. She hadn’t even seen what Melville had done. She could hear something ripping through the air with an explosive sound, followed by the heavy smack of a hard object colliding with something even harder, and afterwards, Melville was no longer standing on both legs; one was casually raised in the air. After having withstood soccer kicks from a demon, that one blow shattered Rionetta’s head into countless wooden shards and tore her bonnet off into rags.

“Ah’ll warn ye again. Stae ye back.” Melville never took her eye off Clantail.

Rionetta’s body slumped against Melville like a doll whose strings had been cut. Both arms dangled limp—until they wrapped around Melville’s arms and squeezed. “Did you believe a puppet master…would leave her own body exposed?”

Rionetta’s back split open, and something jumped out. It was a tiny girl who looked just like Rionetta as a human, except one size smaller, and she gripped a knife in her right hand. Melville’s arms were bound. The girl kicked off Rionetta’s back and leaped to thrust her knife into Melville’s face. “My magic is puppetry. Mistaking a doll for my real body has brought about your demise.” She stabbed Melville right between the eyes, jamming the knife all the way in until only the hilt was visible.

Melville’s expression froze in shock, blood pouring down her face and dripping onto the ground. “Fine work,” she said, before forcing her way out of the doll’s grip. Knife still in her forehead, Melville grabbed the girl’s arm with her right hand, her left going for the girl’s neck.

A gasp of pain escaped from the girl. “H…ow…?”

Melville didn’t reply. Her hand squeezed the girl’s neck even harder. Pechka heard bones break as blood dribbled from the girl’s mouth, and she just watched, unable to look away. The girl’s face twisted in regret, and the wooden body slumped against Melville slid down and hit the ground on its front in a cloud of dust. With the knife still jutting from her head, Melville wrenched the girl’s neck, then tossed her aside.

“But yer trick’ry be fer naught once ye’ve revealed the trick.” Melville’s body blurred, then changed shape. The knife that should have been stuck into her forehead was now in her right cheek. She yanked the blade out, and blood gushed from the wound. Tossing the knife away, Melville grabbed Pechka’s collar again, roughly picked her up, and ran off.

“Ah must needs go. Meddlers be comin’.”

  Nokko

Nokko’s party had started at the Evil King’s castle, so now they were running to the wasteland area to meet up with the others. Nokko was pushing herself to sprint as fast as she possibly could, but at that pace, Lazuline had enough breath left to chatter. Of course, since Pfle was on Shadow Gale’s back, she wasn’t huffing or puffing, either. Glancing at Shadow Gale out of the corner of her eye, Nokko noticed she seemed pale. Was it because she was having a hard time running, or because their restored memories were upsetting her? Nokko didn’t know.

As they relentlessly raced over the marble floors of the castle, the thuds of three sets of footsteps echoed and faded behind them.

“So is Melvy really the culprit, then?” said Lazuline. “But Bell was in Melvy’s party, and Cherny, too. It just doesn’t make sense for Melvy to have killed ’em.”

“Think back on her appearance, though,” said Pfle. “Who does she remind you of?” Who did Melville resemble? Pfle answered that question herself. “Yes—the Musician of the Forest, Cranberry. They look so alike. Of course, it’s not simply a matter of looks. Melville is the only one I could consider to be the culprit—the Evil King lurking among the players.” Pfle seemed more on edge than she’d been before the maintenance period. Maybe her restored memories were torturing her, too. “Melville is the one who stole Masked Wonder’s coin, and also the one who manipulated Cherna Mouse’s candy values. Her magic makes both of those feats possible.”

“But Melvy’s magic changes the color of her body to blend into the background, right? How could she do those things with that power?”

They passed through the gate into the wasteland area. The sound under them went from striking stone to stomping earth, and thick dust billowed up behind them. They had nearly reached Pechka’s location.

“She underreported the scope of her powers,” Pfle explained. “She told us her abilities were more limited than they really were in order to avoid exposing the crimes she committed with them. I’m positive that her magic includes not only the ability to freely alter her own appearance, but the appearance of anything. If so, she could falsify the display of her own magical phone by using her magic on it. She could make it look as if she didn’t have the Miracle Coin, even though she actually did. And she did the same with Cherna Mouse’s candy. All she had to do was make her phone’s screen display a different number from what she actually held. And Cherna Mouse would have let Melville touch her phone without any suspicion.”

“Are ya bein’ serious?” asked Lazuline.

“I’m being serious. I believe that Melville is behind the incident where Genopsyko took @Meow-Meow down with her as well—or at the very least, I believe she may have masterminded it.”

“You’re just tryin’ to blame everythin’ on Melvy now, ain’t ya?”

“Of all of us, Melville would have been the only one capable of hiding Genopsyko immediately when she was killed. She would have taken advantage of the confusion to camouflage the corpse and hide it. Then she’d simply have to retrieve it afterward.”

“But Genopsyko was still alive after that! Me and Cherny both saw her in the wasteland town, and when we fought the Great Dragon, too.”

“She didn’t speak with anyone after Akane cut her up, and that’s inexplicable. That would make no sense at all, if Genopsyko were acting under her own free will. But Genopsyko’s actions do make sense if you assume they were induced by someone else’s magic—Melville’s accomplice.”

“Someone was helping Melville?”

“There’s a magic that can control marble statues. Such a skill could certainly control a corpse, as well,” said Pfle.

Manipulating a corpse with magic. Just imagining it sent violent shivers down Nokko’s spine.

“Ya mean Rionetta?” Lazuline doggedly opposed Pfle’s argument. She was not convinced. “Maybe Melvy did do a bunch of bad stuff, worst case, but there’s no reason for Rionetta to help her with all that! No way!”

“Well, I suppose you’d have to ask one of them directly. And even if Rionetta weren’t proactively cooperating with Melville, I can think of a variety of ways Melville could have negotiated with her, such as bribery, threats, or intimidation. It was absolutely doable for her. And since all this fits so well, that makes it quite likely.”

“Hnghh…” Lips pursed, Lazuline groaned. She didn’t seem satisfied with that. “It’s just… It’s still weird. Melvy had no reason to kill Cherny. Cherny really took to her, and Melvy… I don’t wanna say it like this, but she sure knew how to use her.”

“If Melville is connected to Cranberry, then I’d wager that essentially, she requires no reason at all to kill anyone. If she told us she did it simply because she wanted to, my only response would be ‘Oh, really?’”

“Hold on a sec. Sorry this is kinda basic, but…you been on about Cranberry this, Cranberry that. Who is this person? Ya said she looks like Melvy?”

Pfle was startled. It was so unusual for her to let surprise, upset, or any other emotions show on the surface. Shadow Gale turned around to look at her. The tension was obvious in not only her expression but even her neck, and she was clearly nervous. Nokko was surprised, too.

“Huh? What’s up?” The look on Lazuline’s face said she didn’t know what all the shock was about. She tilted her head a bit.

Pfle raised her eyebrows slightly, as if in an attempt to cover up her surprise, and then her gaze shifted over to Nokko. “What about you, Nokko? Do you know Musician of the Forest, Cranberry?”

“Yes.” Nokko nodded. She knew that name so well, it hurt: Cranberry, the Musician of the Forest, the magical girl who had forced her into a battle to the death to pass her magical-girl selection exam.

“Well, let’s discuss that later,” said Pfle. “Right now, we have something more important to deal with.”

  Pechka

Pechka’s broken fingers hurt so much, she thought she’d lose her mind. She’d have rather just gone crazy already, anyway. Her nails were broken, and her fingers were pointing in all different directions. The worst of them had broken bones poking through the bleeding muscle and skin. Pechka averted her eyes from her right hand. The sight of it made her feel faint.

But closing her eyes only recalled the images from just moments ago. On the dark interior of her eyelids, she saw Rionetta, neck broken, dangling limply from Melville’s hand.

Rionetta had tried to save Pechka. She had apparently been cooperating with Melville for money, but she’d tried to save her teammate, anyway.

But Pechka had frozen. Right when Melville had been about to kill Rionetta, Pechka could have at least grabbed at Melville’s legs. But she’d stayed still. She’d been frightened, terrified, and incapable of reaching out, even though she had returned to the game telling herself that she didn’t want to be so passive and helpless anymore. But she still hadn’t been able to do anything. It wasn’t that she’d tried and failed. The failure had come before the attempt. She hadn’t been able to move—despite the fact that Rionetta might have survived if Pechka had only done something. But Pechka had put herself first and frozen up. Just like last time.

What must Rionetta have felt when she’d tried to save Pechka? She’d always complimented Pechka’s cooking, going on about how amazing it was. She’d had a sharp tongue, constantly fought with Nonako, and seemed scary to Pechka from the moment they met, but still, she had been a friend.

All these things kept whirling and whirling around inside Pechka’s head. Meanwhile, Melville was running, carrying Pechka. She’d reached the edge of the wasteland area, and from that point, she began running in a clockwise circle. Clantail was chasing her. When she got too close, Melville would hurt Pechka to warn her off. Clantail kept about twenty yards back, following them at a distance neither too near nor too far. Between the clouds of dust, Pechka could see her teammate’s face.

She seemed sad. Angry, too. Either way, it was the first time Pechka had ever seen her with such an expression.

Clantail’s emotions never showed themselves on her face. Her gestures were what revealed the things she tried to keep hidden inside. When her deer tail whipped up after defeating an enemy, she was triumphant. When it wagged up and down during a meal, that meant she was enjoying it. When she didn’t like it, she would rub her front legs against her stomach.

Right now, she was making no gestures that suggested what was going on inside her. There was only her face. She was trying to save Pechka. Clantail wanted to save her but couldn’t even get close. Since she was fast, it would have been easy for her to catch up to Melville, but she was concerned for Pechka’s safety and so was forced to keep her distance. Clantail had been the strongest in their party. She’d defeated the most monsters, she’d been entrusted with the Dragon-Killer back during the fight with the Great Dragon, and she’d also received +10 equipment from the Evil King’s castle. Rionetta and Nonako had both counted on her to be their cornerstone in battle, and Pechka had relied on her most of all.

If Clantail could just catch up, then she’d be sure to win. Melville was very strong—she had fought Rionetta—but Clantail would certainly come out victorious.

If I could just slow Melville down somehow… But as the thought crossed Pechka’s mind, agony shot through her right arm, and she screamed. Melville had smacked Pechka’s left hand with her bow. Even though the blow was only a slap, Melville’s strength was atypical, and her longbow, sturdy enough to withstand a magical girl’s strength, was abnormally hard. It split the skin on her left hand, and the flesh underneath swelled out as blood poured from the wound. Pechka could see her own bones.

“Dinnae move.”

That alone was enough to stop Pechka in her tracks. Her left arm hurt. She was scared. She knew that Clantail was being forced back because of her, but she still couldn’t move. Her body was frozen.

“Ah’ll finish ’is afore ye can ’inder me.” Still racing at high speed, Melville flung Pechka ahead of her. Pechka didn’t even have time to be startled before she hit the ground. She covered her face with her hands, but both of them were horribly mangled. She writhed in pain as the momentum from the throw sent her tumbling along the ground, and right when she came to a halt, Melville caught up to her. Melville stepped on Pechka’s neck to hold her down and turned around to face Clantail.

“Stae ye back.”

Clantail couldn’t come close. Melville’s foot was on Pechka’s neck. One hard lean would break her neck—and Melville knew it. That put her in a position to tell Clantail what to do. Pechka understood that as well, but she still couldn’t move.

Pechka’s neck creaked under the strain. Melville was putting her weight on it. “Ye stae as ye be now. Dinnae move ye.”

Melville nocked a javelin in her bow. She pulled back the bowstring, aiming for Clantail. Clantail flinched, but there was nowhere for her to run. Melville fired, and the shot ricocheted off Clantail’s shield and into a high-rise building a few hundred yards behind her. It blasted the upper part of the building right off. The impact was more than Clantail could take, and she transformed her lower body into an alligator to brace herself as she was thrown back.

“Ah, th’plus ten Shield, eh? ’Tis staerdy indeed.” Melville’s second and third shots bounced off Clantail’s shield, and each one blasted Clantail backward. The javelins kicked up dirt and sand wherever they landed, almost like explosions.

Clantail blocked them all with her shield. She wasn’t getting hit—but she was hiding behind her shield, shoulders heaving. She had the +10 equipment, but Melville’s bow was abnormally powerful and wielded by an abnormally powerful archer, as well. Pechka had seen Melville firing javelins many times, yet she had never seen Melville fire with such power and speed, plus modifier or not.

—Melville had been hiding it.

She’d been concealing her true ability. But for what? Had she anticipated that they would start killing one another?

Melville nocked another javelin in her bow. Pechka didn’t know if Clantail could take one more shot. And even if she did somehow manage to, what about the next one? And the one after that?

If Pechka acted, Clantail wouldn’t have to just stand there and take it. She could get closer and strike back. But that would mean that Pechka, the hostage, would have to go. Pechka would die.

Pechka’s arms and legs refused to move. They just wouldn’t budge, no matter what. She couldn’t breathe. But even if she couldn’t move her limbs, she could move something else, at least, some other part—

“Wait!” Pechka yelled, and then she shuddered at what she’d done.

“What?” Melville leaned on her leg. The joints in Pechka’s neck groaned.

“A magical girl…”

The weight on her neck lessened.

“A magical girl wouldn’t fight this way.”

Pechka knew she was provoking Melville. This might get her killed. It would be strange if Melville didn’t kill her. Though Pechka had thought she’d come here ready to die, the idea made her teeth chatter. It felt like she was being teased, on the edge of having her internal organs crushed. Her heart was preparing for death, but her body couldn’t catch up. Her body was crying, I’m scared, I’m scared.

“Talk.” Melville didn’t take her eyes off Clantail, but her attention was on Pechka. She was curious about what she had to say. Pechka shivered with cold despite the glaring wasteland sun overhead.

Pechka explained. Magical girls were strong. Strong and proud. That was something that Cranberry had aspired to. She had wanted magical girls to be tough, and that was why she had forced them into those killing matches. What the world needed was not cowardly magical girls who would take hostages to bully their opponents, but the kind who fought fair and square and defeated their foes without an advantage.

Pechka herself didn’t even really understand what she was saying as she went on. Her right hand hurt. So did her left. The weight holding down her neck pressed her face into the ground. She was scared. She was terrified. She felt like her heart was going to stop. She’d been grabbed by the collar and treated like an object, and she’d vomited up the acid in her stomach. Now all she could do was move her mouth as spit flew from it in an unsightly fashion. But still, her mouth was indeed moving.

A magical girl didn’t need hostages. She wouldn’t be running around like this. She wouldn’t manipulate candy stores to get rid of someone. She didn’t buy allies with money. A magical girl fought the strong fair and square. “If you fought each other as magical girls, fair and square…someone like you could never beat Clantail.”

Melville smiled. “Ah nae be like Cranb’ry.”

Pechka trembled. Melville was just like Cranberry in every way, and that smile—the first smile she’d shown Pechka—was just like Cranberry’s, too. But Melville was saying she was different.

“Vict’ry be th’goal. Th’last un standin’ be th’victor.”

Pechka focused on her palms. She felt faint with pain.

She had to stay conscious. No matter if she was frightened and scared, if she just lay here trembling, she’d be killed anyway. She had to act. Even if she was terrified, even if she was panicking, even if all her limbs were paralyzed, there was still one thing she could do.

As a magical girl, Pechka had only ever been protected by others. In order to keep Pechka safe, her friend had let her cheekbones be broken, her jaw be smashed, her face become so swollen she couldn’t see in front of her, but she’d still stood up to Cranberry until the Evil King had straddled her and punched her to death. But all Pechka had done was tremble. If she had done something, they might have been able to win, but her limbs had frozen up.

Then, after it had all ended, Cranberry and Fav had started talking as if Pechka weren’t even there. “Nobody passed last time, or the time before that, or the time before that, either, hmm?” said Cranberry.

“If we don’t pass someone this time, we’re sure to get complaints, pon.”

“I hate to pass this girl, since she barely fought at all. But we could say it’s in light of her friend’s grit.”

“Mm-hmm, Cranberry, you’ve really matured, pon.”

“Compliments won’t get you anywhere.”

When Cranberry, red with blood splatter, had casually announced that Pechka had passed, Pechka had sunk to the ground in relief. The tears didn’t come until long after that. She’d even felt thankful to Cranberry, the girl who’d hit and hit and hit her friend right before her eyes to her brutal death. Pechka hadn’t even considered her friend who was lying dead right there.

Why hadn’t she been able to move? Why hadn’t she done anything? She wanted to yell at herself for being grateful to Cranberry for sparing her life, to yell at herself for forgetting her friend in her relief.

Pechka had sworn to herself that it would never happen again. But she was still scared, shaking, paralyzed, tears and snot dripping from her face. She was hurt, terrified, convinced she was going to die.

—But, but, but, but, but…!

Even if she couldn’t move her arms or her legs, there was still one thing that she could do.

Pechka activated her magic.

She’d dragged her speech out for five minutes, and her hands had stayed on the ground. To explain Pechka’s magic in detail: She could transform anything she touched continuously for five minutes into the food of her choice. She would fill a pot with earth and then place her hands on it to turn it into food. This time, she was touching the ground directly.

In an instant, all the ground within fifteen feet of both of them was transformed into cold pumpkin and shrimp soup, and Pechka and Melville were right in the middle. Melville, from her standing position, and Pechka, lying down, were both drawn in by gravity, sinking into the sea. Pechka’s hat floated up off her head and onto the surface.

Pechka was submerged in soup. She gulped down a mouthful. It was delicious and nutritious, the cooking everyone had told her they loved. Energy welled from inside her.

—Move! Move! Mooooove!

Pechka clung to Melville’s leg. She couldn’t use her hands or her fingers, so she hugged Melville’s leg with her arms. Before Melville could kick Pechka off with her struggling, the sea of cold soup ended. With a pop, Melville and Pechka fell down into a big empty space, together with the cold soup. There were rock ledges green with moss, and lines of stalagmites. This place was familiar.

This time, they landed in real water. All the bubbles blinded Pechka. It was cold. She landed so hard, it felt like her arms would rip off. Desperately, she clung on.

They were in the underground lake. The path from the underground lake that connected the subterranean area to the stairs up to the library was right underneath the wasteland area. Pechka hadn’t accounted for this. It was unexpected for her, but Melville was stunned, too. Pechka wouldn’t let go. Finally, Melville kicked Pechka in the face. The water dulled its force, and Melville was a little frantic, too. The kick wasn’t so bad. Even Pechka could handle it. Melville kicked at her again, but Pechka twisted to avoid it and kept clinging with her arms. Melville’s third kick hit her in the shoulder. She could still handle it.

Large bubbles burbled up from Melville’s mouth.

—A little longer! Just a little longer!

Melville’s face twisted. She raised her javelin up and swung it down.

Pechka looked at the spear piercing her just above her navel. Red mingled with the orange of the soup, flowing out into the water. Her arms slackened. Melville slipped out and away from Pechka’s grasp.

I was so close. Frustration welled up inside her, then quickly disappeared.

  Shadow Gale

Shadow Gale was running for where they were to meet Pechka. She still hadn’t made sense of everything in her head.

She was sort of listening to Pfle’s explanation. Unlike Lazuline, she wasn’t going to ask questions about what the hell was going on. And she didn’t care much about Pfle’s explanation, since she’d heard it already. But more to the point, she just wasn’t thinking straight. Her arms and legs were moving automatically, pumping as hard as they could.

She was in the lead with Pfle on her back as she raced along, unconcerned about their pace, passing by crumbling building after identical crumbling building as they headed for the meeting point.

Part of her was relieved by the explanation that Melville was the culprit—that in other words, she was the Evil King. Another part of her felt uneasy. Is that really it?

Why was she relieved? Because she’d suspected someone else might be the Evil King… She didn’t want her to be the one, but there was one magical girl that had made her suspect that if there was an Evil King, it might be her. This was part of the reason for her unease.

Pfle’s explanation was convincing. Melville’s costume so closely resembled that of Musician of the Forest, Cranberry, that she wouldn’t be able to talk her way out of it. It made the most sense for Melville to be the Evil King.

But Shadow Gale still couldn’t relax. Pfle felt heavier on her back than usual. She had never felt this heavy before, not until their memories of Cranberry’s exam had been restored. Pfle had been a very active participant back then. It had even seemed as if she’d been proactively cooperating with Cranberry. Until Shadow Gale had recalled what Pfle had been—

“Mamori!”

Shadow Gale was startled. She remembered what she was doing and stopped where she was, looking around and wondering what had happened. She was in the same old wasteland, and aside from Pfle on her back, there was nothing nearby…

Nothing?

“Where are Lazuline and Nokko?” Shadow Gale asked.

“I stopped hearing Lazuline’s footsteps first, and after that, Nokko’s vanished, as well. Lazuline disappeared instantly. I’d wager she used her magic. Nokko’s sounded as if she ran off somewhere. By the time I looked back, she had already vanished, so I think she might have gone into one of the dilapidated buildings on the way.”

“Why didn’t you tell me immediately?!”

“I did. You were ignoring me.”

Shadow Gale bit her lip. She hadn’t noticed at all until Pfle had yelled at her. “So what do we do?”

“We’re close to the meet-up point. Let’s go there first. Our priority is making sure we can build a large group.” Pfle was rational and selfish. She put her own safety first. Though Shadow Gale thought her suggestion had to be the right thing to do, the weight on Shadow Gale’s back felt just a little heavier.

As Pfle had said, it wasn’t long before they arrived at their goal. But Pechka wasn’t where she was supposed to be.

“What…”

Instead, there was a magical phone, the wreckage of a doll that looked like Rionetta, and a tiny girl lying still on the ground. When Shadow Gale lifted her in her arms, her head dangled. She was already dead. There was no point in using any recovery medicine now.

Shadow Gale gently closed the girl’s eyes. Her face looked like Rionetta’s.

“Well, then,” said Pfle. “What do you suppose happened?”

“…Looks like there was a fight.” Shadow Gale turned around to find nothing. No one was there. High-rise buildings dotted the wasteland, stretching into the horizon. Scanning left to right, checking ahead and back, she saw it was all the same.

“From this point, we split up.” Pfle pulled out her magical phone, summoned her carpet, and slid down from Shadow Gale’s back onto it. She prompted Shadow Gale to pull out her phone, too. “You’re registered as part of our party, now. You should be able to tell where Nokko is, right? Go and search for her.”

“What do we do about Lazuline?”

Pfle’s eyes were on the screen of her own magical phone. She had the map application activated and was checking her party members’ current positions. Pfle’s icon was right here, Nokko was a little ways away, and Lazuline’s icon was nowhere to be found. “Lazuline isn’t in the wasteland, at least. Leave her be.”

“And you, miss?”

“The others are probably fighting Melville. I’ll head over to back them up. We must defeat Melville, or none of us have any hope.”

“Then is this really the time to be looking for Nokko?”

“Do you think there’s a reason she left us?”

Why had Nokko had left Shadow Gale and Pfle just now? Shadow considered it, but couldn’t think of anything.

“That’s another serious cause for concern,” said Pfle. “There’s some risk in splitting up, but our numbers are limited, so we have no choice. If you feel you’re in even the slightest danger, flee immediately. Don’t forget: If you sense danger, run.”

  Melville

She had underestimated Pechka.

For Pechka’s magic to work, she had to be touching her target with her palms, and she also required five minutes to prepare, so her powers weren’t usable in battle. Melville had figured as long as she wasn’t foolish enough to let Pechka lay her hands on her for five minutes straight, her magic would be useless. She hadn’t imagined that Pechka would be capable of such a wide area of effect.

But no matter. It had been Melville’s fault for giving her five minutes to spare at all, forgetting about her magic, and letting Pechka talk freely so that Melville could show off how unconcerned she was. She had been upset when the differences between her and Cranberry had come up, and she’d done a poor job of hiding it. If not for that, she never would’ve considered allowing all of Pechka’s awkward babble.

The beautiful Musician of the Forest had swooped down before Melville as she was hunting animals in the hills and fields with her handmade bow and arrows. Even the great bear, the god of the mountain, had been no match for her. She had admired the Musician of the Forest so much, yearned so badly to be like her, that her magical-girl form looked just like the person she adored.

Melville had admired Cranberry—worshiped her. But despite that, she’d chosen a different path from her idol. No, she’d been forced to choose a different path.

Melville’s magic was the power to change the surface colors of any object. She could erase what was supposed to be there and create something else. Her powerful ability could deceive her enemies’ eyes, confuse them, and whittle down their strength. Melville’s style was to mislead and trick her enemies, then shoot them down.

But her magic didn’t work on Cranberry at all. Even though Melville had learned to move almost soundlessly, Cranberry’s hearing was sharper than her sight. She could sense the heartbeat of any living creature. If an object wasn’t alive, then she could send out sonar-like waves to pinpoint its location. Magic that could only change appearances didn’t mean much to Cranberry.

Cranberry’s identity was founded on her own strength. But Melville’s core principle was that, since she couldn’t be as good as Cranberry, she would do things a different way.

She schemed. She deceived. She used surprise attacks and assassination. Temporary alliances. Money, too. As long as she could win, that was enough. The strongest of all was the last one standing.

But Melville never got over it. After all her training and battles, she was no longer a rookie. But even as she was getting closer to Cranberry, she felt more and more like she would never catch up.

The strong rule in the mountains. Magical girls were the strongest and greatest of all. The strongest of them would truly be the greatest.

Melville had been chosen as a magical girl through Cranberry’s exam, and afterward, she would cooperate with Cranberry when needed. Unlike the other magical girls, her memory had never been erased. It had been Melville’s wish that she retain her memories, and Cranberry had granted it.

Melville wanted to be able to beat Cranberry, one day. With that desire in mind, she had continued on as a magical girl until she hit a wall she could never overcome. Then, while she was busy struggling, Cranberry, the one who was supposed to have been the strongest of them all, had been killed. When Cranberry’s deeds were exposed, the authorities had caught Melville, too. Before she was even over the shock of Cranberry’s death, her qualifications as a magical girl had been stripped from her, and she was back to being only a girl.

Then this game had begun. Someone had returned her powers to her. She had regained her identity as admirer of the Musician of the Forest, Cranberry; her strength; and her way of living. Scanning the other participants, she’d noticed a number of familiar faces. They were the victors Melville had seen before when she’d helped Cranberry with her exams. Some were examinees whose names had been written in the records Fav had left behind. There were also a number of new faces there as well, but Melville was certain they were all victors of Cranberry’s exams.

Someone had gathered all these girls who’d passed and forced them to play a game. In other words, this meant Cranberry was alive, right? No one but Cranberry would have done something like this. Either her death had been a lie, or she had faked it herself. Cranberry was so strong, there was no way she could have died, Melville had thought with joy.

The other girls had seemed to think this game was exactly what it seemed. No surprise there. They’d all forgotten. But Cranberry would never make them play a game that was entirely safe and secure. They’d been told that they should cooperate to defeat the Evil King, but Cranberry, of course, would have wanted them to do something else. She had gathered the victors here to make them play, so as to select the true victor from them all. Of course, Melville had to be the winner.

Melville pretended to be a regular participant while she went around killing the other players in secret.

If she’d fought Masked Wonder head-on, the other girl would have been a great challenge. Seeing her face off with Cherna Mouse had been enough evidence of that. She wasn’t an opponent to fight head-to-head. It was best to take her by surprise.

Melville had been glad when Akane had taken herself out of the running. In the hospital, Akane had been seething with hatred for Cranberry and apparently still remembered bits and pieces. She’d gone around saying, Musician, musician, at every opportunity, so Melville had been worried she might cause one of the others to remember.

Speaking of dropouts, Genopsyko and Magical Daisy were responsible for their own deaths, too. Both Genopsyko, who could nullify any attack, and Magical Daisy, who was very experienced and used powerful one-hit KO magic, were troublesome enemies. The removal of those two had been a big help to Melville.

Cherna had been manageable and easy to control. By using her to monopolize hunting grounds, Melville had sown the seeds of discord between the parties and slowed down the exchange of information. She had considered using Cherna up until the end…but when she saw Cherna crush Pfle’s tank, she changed her mind. If Cherna had turned on her at any point, it would have been too much for Melville to handle.

@Meow-Meow. It had seemed as if her memories were beginning to return, perhaps triggered by the things Akane had said. Though she had genuine strength even without her memories, and was able to battle it out with Akane and win. Melville had used Genopsyko’s body to finish her off. @Meow-Meow had felt strongly for her allies, so to kill her, Melville was forced to use those allies to lower her guard. Melville had let them get a glimpse of Genopsyko beforehand and left the warning message that there was a traitor. She’d also created a wound on the face of the fake Genopsyko, then later, when she had made Rionetta control Genopsyko’s body, Melville had erased the injury, suggesting that Genopsyko had survived and that @Meow-Meow was the traitor.

Melville had used Rionetta because she had seen her exam in full, and she knew how Rionetta made her living. She was basically an assassin who only worked for money. Of course, Rionetta couldn’t let the Magical Kingdom know about that. Melville had sneaked into Rionetta’s house to leave three million yen in cash on her table. When the game had started up again, Melville had revealed that she’d been the one who gave it to her, adding that she hoped it would help repay Rionetta’s father’s debts. Melville had lured her with money while also implicitly threatening her—she knew where Rionetta lived and about her family. That was how she had used Rionetta to eliminate @Meow-Meow.

As for the remaining magical girls… There was Pfle. She was all talk, and she’d lost her wheelchair, too. Shadow Gale. If that ten-legged tank was the best she could do, then no problem there. Nonako Miyokata. It depended on the monsters available, but Melville could kill her, even two-on-one against her dragon. Detec Bell. Not only was her magic unsuited for battle, she could hardly use it at all in the game. Pechka. Out of the question.

The only tough one would be Lazuline. The previous Lapis Lazuline had been one of the top veterans among the victorious survivors of Cranberry’s exams. She’d been a shrewd old hag, and even before becoming a magical girl, she’d never let her guard down for a second in her life. Since the old Lazuline had picked her out, the current Lapis Lazuline would be no weakling, and her keen intuition would be a threat to Melville, too. How to eliminate her…?

That was the point when all the players’ memories had returned and Melville had lost her advantage. If she had only managed to kill Detec Bell instantly and steal her phone…but it was too late for that.

Now that it was all out in the open, Melville couldn’t hide herself among the players anymore. Her appearance had been born from her desire to be just like Cranberry. Her vines, roses, and pointed ears were already the same. She probably wouldn’t be targeted immediately based purely on her resemblance, but they would certainly be very suspicious of her. She couldn’t stay hidden any longer.

Melville had made a mistake in underestimating Pechka and paid for it dearly, but that didn’t make this an instant game over. Melville stabbed Pechka with her javelin and finally slipped away when the other girl’s grip loosened. She made herself invisible and escaped, and immediately afterward, she heard something hit the lake, along with a spray of water.

It was Clantail. She’d come in through the hole Pechka had made, her lower body a fish…no, a dolphin. She kicked through the water with her large tail, straight for Pechka.

Melville ignored Clantail and swam for the shore, deftly erasing drips of water, her footprints, and herself as she went. Making it look as if nothing had ever been there, she circled the lake.

Clantail was using her magical phone. She had to be trying to heal her companion’s injury. Pechka was alive, barely. Melville had made sure the stab wound wouldn’t kill her immediately.

Still invisible, Melville moved around the lake’s edge to come behind Clantail. With Pechka in her arms, she wasn’t watching out for Melville. Her unguarded back made a very nice target.

If Melville used her bow, the sound of her pulling the string back might alert Clantail. Even if she was no Cranberry, all magical girls had keen senses, which of course included sharp hearing. And besides, no matter how big this cavern was, it was still an enclosed space. If she triggered a cave-in and got trapped in here, Melville would be helpless.

Now, she should use her javelin the proper way and throw it by hand. By the time Clantail noticed it flying toward her, she’d be impaled by the transparent steel. Slowly and soundlessly, Melville raised her weapon, then hurled it at Clantail’s back.

  Pechka

When Pechka opened her eyes, she was in Clantail’s arms. Following her memories back, she recalled being stabbed by a javelin, and she looked at her own stomach. There was a hole in her clothing, and the area around it was all red, but she wasn’t in pain. There was no spear. She tried touching the spot and found no wound.

“What a relief…” Clantail was smiling. She seemed about to cry. Pechka was in her arms, so their faces were close.

Glancing at Clantail’s lower body, Pechka saw it had transformed into a dolphin. It’s one of her cuter transformations. I’ll classify that one together with the deer and the pony, Pechka thought, her mind still hazy.

Just then…she suddenly got a whiff of something. The smell was exactly like the one hovering over them and on Pechka herself, and it was circling the lake. Pechka looked around, but she couldn’t see anything that could be the source. Before Pechka even realized what was going on, she acted. She wrapped her arms around Clantail’s shoulders and reversed their positions in the water.

A brutal impact hit her back. She felt like her body would be torn apart.

Pain. Heat. Cold. Agony. Fear.

She fell into the blackness together with all these negative feelings. But one single thing inside her shone beautifully. Pechka had finally been able to act. She had been able to protect her dear friend. Satisfied with this result, she silently closed her eyes.

Her friends were there, behind her eyelids. Her family, too. Nonako and Rionetta were fighting, and Clantail was trying to make them settle down. Ninomiya was there. That girl who was so much like him was there, too. They were all smiling. Pechka smiled. It was nice. This was fun, and she was glad.

  Melville

Pechka had gotten her yet again. Her javelin should have pierced Clantail’s back, but Pechka had spun them around so that it hit her instead. Now Clantail was aware of her enemy, and before Melville could fire off a second javelin, she dived down into the water with Pechka.

Yes, it was Pechka again. Melville spat on a rock. She tried to calm herself, but she was so irate that she was ready to boil over with humiliation and rage.

Clantail hadn’t noticed Melville, but Pechka had. She’d detected Melville’s presence, sensed what she was doing, and blocked the spike Melville had thrown at Clantail’s back. There had to be a reason why Pechka had been the only one to notice. Melville’s movements had been entirely silent. No one could have sensed her, unless their hearing was as sharp as Cranberry’s. The only thing besides sight and hearing was scent. Perhaps just as Cranberry’s ability to control sound conferred upon her a powerful sense of hearing, Pechka’s cooking abilities gave her an amazing sense of smell.

Coming up with an explanation for her failure enabled Melville to finally calm her heart. She took another lance in hand. No matter how many she threw, she would never run out.

The surface of the water was still. Clantail was still in her dive and didn’t rise.

Was Pechka alive or dead? Melville had felt that hit. She was probably dead. What would Clantail do when her teammate died? She would attack, for sure. But Melville had concealed her presence, and Clantail had no way to find her.

Melville touched her hand to the bare rock face. She couldn’t sense any movement within the water.

She figured she should run. Out in the wasteland, she’d be unbeatable. She would rather not fight underground, given the choice. There wasn’t enough space. If she threw her javelin hard, she was bound to cause a cave-in, and then she’d be the one getting trapped and injured.

But running away now would allow the survivors to meet up. She would much rather take them out one by one. Whittling down the enemy’s forces was clearly better than fighting them all at once.

Melville looked up at the roof. Pechka’s magic had opened a large hole above them. And in her scuffle with Clantail, for the first time in the game, Melville had pulled the bowstring back as hard as she could. The rare items she’d acquired thanks to the Miracle Coin, the Power Talisman, and the Bow of the Evil God had enabled her to destroy one of the buildings and form a crater. That power was good, but that sort of dramatic destruction might have drawn attention from the other magical girls. It would be best if she could kill Clantail surreptitiously.

The surface of the water shifted and rippled. Melville focused. If she flung the javelin straight at Clantail’s face, that would void half the point of going invisible. Raising up onto her tiptoes, she curved her spine. She’d mastered the art of moving silently in an attempt to catch up to Cranberry, but ultimately, that had not been enough to surpass Cranberry, either. But it had built the foundation of Melville’s combat style.

Clantail’s head floated to the surface twenty yards from the opposite shore. Her shoulders and torso emerged, and she was cradling Pechka. The girl was still in Clantail’s embrace. Her limbs were loose and limp. Clantail’s head was drooping, so Melville couldn’t see her expression from where she was standing.

If she was holding Pechka, that meant her arms were occupied.

Circling around to Clantail’s right side, Melville observed Pechka. Blood flowed from her back, staining Clantail. Her wound hadn’t healed, and her face and arms were beyond pale. They were ashen. Melville had seen the same thing many, many times during Cranberry’s exams. Pechka was dead.

With her lower body still in the water, Clantail was approaching the shore. It would be best to kill her before she left the water, since on the lake, her movement would be limited. Positioning herself at Clantail’s right flank, Melville adjusted her grip on her javelin. About a hundred and thirty yards to her target. It was a good distance. She readied her javelin, and the instant before she threw, her eyes met Lazuline’s— Lazuline?

A crushing sense of unease washed over Melville.

“Are ya really the Evil King, Melvy?” Lapis Lazuline was right beside Clantail. She was facing Melville and speaking to her—even though she had to be invisible. Her eyes were filled with pure anger, and her face was twisted in a glare. This was the first time Melville had ever seen Lazuline angry. Melville retreated half a step. She was overwhelmed.

Though only for a moment, she was confused. Melville’s specialty was creating something from nothing. None of the other magical girls here could have done something like that.

Clantail’s head turned to follow Lazuline’s gaze—toward Melville. Lazuline threw a sparkling blue orb, teleported toward it and caught it, then threw it for another teleport while she was still in midair, and then she was standing right in front of Melville.

“Are ya seriously the Evil King, Melvy? Are you the one who killed Bell?” she asked, facing the invisible and silent Melville. Lazuline could tell where she was.

Melville took a deep lungful of moist underground lake air. If Lazuline was going to give her a moment, then she would use it to suppress her rising confusion, discomfiture, and shock.

Back when they had been exploring the Evil King’s castle area, Lazuline had given Clantail a gem. Insurance, in case Lazuline was suddenly attacked up front. Had Clantail returned that gem to Lazuline? At the very least, Melville hadn’t witnessed the exchange.

Clantail had dived into the water not only to avoid Melville’s attack and attempt to heal Pechka—she had been sending a plea to Lazuline for help. Lazuline had responded and teleported to the gem in Clantail’s possession.

The question that remained was how Lazuline knew where Melville was. Melville threw a javelin, which Lazuline dodged easily before making a beeline for her.

—Was it intuition? That was all?

Melville shot a look over to Clantail. She was already just about at the shore.

Clantail’s magic was to transform her lower body into any nonhuman creature. That could be a mammal, reptile, amphibian, fish, or anything else. As long as it was alive, anything went. However, any creature that she transformed into would never have anything above the neck—because that was where Clantail’s upper body would be growing.

Melville knew all about Clantail, since Melville had assisted Cranberry in her exam. Clantail had transformed into various animals then, but all of them had been only from the neck down. She had never transformed into an animal with a head.

An animal’s sensory organs were generally situated above the neck. Some odd cases might have them on the legs or torso, but those creatures didn’t have particularly potent senses. None of them would be good enough to detect Melville when she was moving silently. A snake’s ability to sense heat, a dog’s sense of smell, and a bat’s sonar would all have been a threat to her, but Clantail would have needed the head of the animal to use those sensory organs. For that reason, Clantail’s magic didn’t pose a substantial threat to Melville. If she defeated Lazuline first, her chances of victory were good.

Clantail gently laid Pechka’s body down on the shore. Lifting her head, she looked at Melville. With an expression more bestial than any animal, she glared.

“Melviiiiiille!” she howled, charging. Her lower body was a lion. She’d most likely not chosen a horse because she’d figured hooves would be dangerous here on the slippery rock, and she was soaked, too.

Clantail’s approach was swift. Even if she couldn’t see Melville, Clantail would know where she was because Lazuline was fighting her. She would be forced to fight two-on-one. After turning aside Lazuline’s punch, Melville blocked a kick with her longbow. She had no time.

Melville changed all the colors of the rock surface around Clantail to a perfect black that reflected no light. Now Clantail wouldn’t be able to see the irregularities of the ground, making it extremely difficult to run. Would she slow down, simply abandon herself to her anger and race full speed only to stumble—or would she hesitate momentarily? Melville just had to buy some time, no matter how brief. She would use those moments to kill Lazuline.

Melville swiped a jab away, then deflected each part of Lazuline’s jab, hook, uppercut, straight combination with the back of her hand or palm. She tossed her longbow aside. In close quarters, it would only get in the way. She thrust the javelin in her right hand at Lazuline’s feet, but Lazuline blocked the stab with the bottom of her foot. Melville couldn’t sense that her invisibility put Lazuline at any disadvantage, even though she couldn’t have seen either Melville or her javelin.

Lazuline had said her intuition had always been sharp, but the previous Lazuline had polished it. Melville couldn’t help but think that the old Lazuline had anticipated a battle to the death against multiple opponents. Lazuline could dodge attacks from behind. She could sense attackers, even when taken by surprise. She could see through traps. And of course, she was a talented fighter, too.

One second had passed.

What had the previous Lazuline been thinking? That hag had been cunning and tenacious. What had she been thinking, training a magical girl who carried her name for a murderous battle, training her hard, while she retired carefree? She’d just been preparing a scapegoat for when something happened, hadn’t she?

This girl, designed for a battle royal, had sharp fists. She was precise and never hesitated. She hit Melville’s shoulder, grazed her cheek, and cut off a chunk of her hair, which floated away. Melville stopped trying to be silent. She let the sounds of her movement, her clothing, breathing, everything make noise. The two girls punched each other. Exchanged blows. Thrust, stumble back, spin, back fist, counter with an elbow. Melville hit Lazuline on the wrist to block but couldn’t slow down the strike and got hit in the neck. Unflinching, Melville thrust out her javelin and skewered Lazuline’s thigh, holding her in place to drive a heel into her right foot and break it.

Two seconds had passed.

Lazuline didn’t cry out. She didn’t even show a hint of pain. Without hesitation, she crushed a gem in her right hand and scattered the fragments. Before Melville could understand what she was doing, Lazuline had vanished, and Melville was taking a punch in the back. Her ribs cracked. It had hurt her kidney, too. Melville swung her javelin around to the rear, but Lazuline wasn’t there. Melville raised her arm to block a hit aimed at her temple, but when she tried to strike back, Lazuline was already gone. After a hit to the torso, Melville staggered. She predicted the following attacks to her shoulder, arm, and thigh, so aside from the first shot, she somehow managed to avoid any major damage, but she couldn’t manage to strike back. She was being kicked and punched from every direction, as if she were at the center of an angry mob. Lazuline was only one girl, but she seemed like a crowd.

The fragments of blue gem sparkled as they rained down. Each one of them was a deadly weapon. Lazuline teleported from shard to shard again and again, her afterimages layering over each other. She wasn’t giving Melville the time to strike back.

Three seconds had passed.

Melville fell to the ground. Unable to withstand Lazuline’s flurry of violence, she fell awkwardly on her back…or so she made it seem, but of course, that wasn’t the truth. Pain or injury couldn’t rob Melville of her will to fight. Everything she did was with victory in mind. Cowardly or dirty though it might have been, Melville had chosen a way of life that would never shame her to Cranberry.

By putting her back on the ground, Melville had eliminated her greatest blind spot. The solid cold of the rock surface seeped into her cracked ribs. Lazuline was sure to reveal herself in order to get one final hit on Melville, weakened and downed. That was when Melville would strike. But a single attack wouldn’t be enough to win. If you considered her opponent’s injuries and her own, her opponent’s stance and her own, her opponent’s abilities and her own, and the fact that the timing was up to Lazuline, they were even. There was no point in keeping things that way. What Melville needed was victory. To that end, she’d add just a bit of spice.

Four seconds had passed.

Lazuline revealed herself, and simultaneously, Melville did, too, and added color to her previously invisible body. She mixed up geometry, color, and shadow to create a deceptive image. Lazuline’s foot thrust out, ready to stomp down on Melville on the ground.

Melville thrust her javelin out, crossing past Lazuline’s leg to pierce unerringly through her ribs and her heart behind them. Lazuline looked down at her. Melville, awkwardly sprawled on her stomach, was reflected in her furious eyes.

When Melville had been invisible, Lazuline had been landing accurate hits. Suddenly seeing her, lying on her face, Lazuline had become just a bit bolder. In order to make her final strike to Melville’s vitals, her forward lunge had been a little larger, and that had allowed Melville, who was actually lying on her back in wait, to connect with her javelin first.

If Melville had presented to her a completely fake image with no real body present, Lazuline would probably not have fallen for it. But Melville had only made it seem as if she were flipped over the other way, though she had actually been in that spot. Using herself as bait, she’d managed to create just the smallest opening in Lazuline’s guard. Lazuline, her heart pierced, had landed her stomp, too, but it was weaker, and she had missed Melville’s vitals.

Five seconds had passed.

Melville had made it. Clantail wasn’t there yet.

Lazuline collapsed, and Melville stood to trade places with her. Immediately, she made herself invisible. Lazuline’s defeat didn’t mean this was over. Melville erased the blood splattered on Lazuline as well as her own blood, everything. All that she left visible was Lazuline herself. Once Clantail approached Lazuline to save her, Melville would have this in the bag. She would stab her with her javelin and end the fight.

A vibration in the rock surface. Clantail had launched herself into the air. She was leaping over the black ground.

Foolish. That made her an easy target.

Clantail was twenty yards away. Her lower body swelled, about to transform right there. But no matter what she tried to shape-shift into, she wouldn’t make it in time. No animal could attack from so far away or close the distance faster than Melville’s javelin. The lance would stab her first.

Clantail’s swollen lower abdomen split. Tough, shining-red scales appeared, and she flung her forelegs out in front of her, each claw sharp and as large as a small human. Her tail was as thick as an oil drum, as long as multiple people lay head to foot. She extended a pair of wings massive enough for such a body. They flapped hard enough to make waves on the surface of the water.

Melville remembered. There was no way she could forget this. It was the Great Dragon.

Clasping her javelin, Melville’s hand trembled. She couldn’t steady her aim. She knew she should aim for the upper body, but Clantail was high above her, her great lower body concealing her human parts.

This wasn’t a situation Melville could fight in. She should stay concealed and get out. The Great Dragon was so big, Melville couldn’t expect to do much damage throwing javelins by hand. She just had to get some distance. A shot from her longbow, which could destroy buildings and blast craters into the earth, could pull it off.

When Melville tried to get away, something gently brushed her ankle. It was Lazuline’s hand. She was still facedown on the ground in a pool of her own blood. She was dead. What Melville felt against her ankle was a dead person’s hand. The body heat was bleeding out of her.

But she had moved. Was it out of obsession? Malice?

Before Melville could find out, the Great Dragon gave a horizontal swipe with its claws. It sliced Melville, still invisible, into chunks and flung them into the lake with a spurt of blood.

  Shadow Gale

After splitting with Pfle, her back felt strangely lighter.

She had zero intention of opposing Pfle’s order to run immediately if she felt she was in danger. Shadow Gale moved forward slowly, observing closely for anything abnormal that might be even the slightest bit off.

Speaking of odd, Nokko’s disappearance was bizarre, in and of itself. Nokko had been running at the tail end of their group, so she had to have seen Lazuline disappear. There was no reason for her to fail to mention Lazuline’s absence and then silently withdraw from the line.

In Shadow Gale’s left hand was the Dragon Shield, and in her right she held the +7 wrench. Ready to respond, no matter who attacked or from where, Shadow Gale was not running along the vast wasteland, but walking. Nokko’s icon was close. There was a high-rise about a hundred yards ahead. It was near there.

Maintaining her pace and staying as alert as possible, Shadow Gale approached the high-rise, and then she was there. She touched the wall of the building. The texture was rough. It was just another dilapidated structure, nothing special about it. It was no different from the other countless decrepit edifices dotting the wasteland. It was just a game object.

She checked Nokko’s position with her magical phone. It had not changed at all since Shadow Gale had first launched the map. Nokko was still there. Shadow Gale tucked her phone into her pocket and took her wrench in hand.

The party location function in the map app didn’t indicate the person’s location, but rather the location of their device. It was very possible to turn a magical phone into bait to lure her into a trap. Whether or not Nokko would do such a thing herself, it was also possible someone else would use her phone to that end.

Shadow Gale slid along the wall, circling around to the front of the building. She slowed down further, cautious, careful, inclining her ears to even the slightest sound, taking smooth steps.

It was silent. She noticed no sounds—but she did smell something. She remembered this. The final floor in the subterranean area, where all the magical girls had fought together, came back to her mind’s eye. This was the smell of something burned and scorched.

When she reached the front of the building, Shadow Gale peeked inside. There was a black lump there. It wasn’t clear what it had once been. It was just a cinder the size of a human torso. The soot-black floor around it had to mean this thing had been burned up here.

Beside the lump, a magical phone lay on the ground. Something was attached to it. When she saw it, Shadow Gale immediately closed her eyes. She had been careful and cautious up until this point, but right when it counted most, she was closing her eyes. Was that because she wanted to unsee what she’d just witnessed, or was she just averting her eyes from reality?

A girl’s severed hand clasped the magical phone tight. It was burned coal-black from the wrist halfway up the back. Only one of the players had a hand of that size. The image of that hand, still so small, was burned under Shadow Gale’s eyelids, and shutting her eyes wasn’t enough to erase it.