Can someone explain what the hell is happening, like a thunderstorm dumped in my lap?

A minute ago, that necklace hung on my neck like a cheap trinket. Now it’s a crown jewel blazing out of a shabby shop’s dust. You’re telling me it’s an Underworld rarity—a Soul Gem. It leaves those bargain Magical Stones eating dust down a dozen streets.

And that’s not even it. Why does it talk, like a cartoon comet crashing into reality? It’s a rock, so why is my life turning two-dimensional?

“How rude~ Am I really that scary~?”

The Magical Stone chimed, soft and mochi-sweet, honey dripping straight into my ears.

No, that’s not the real problem. The world feels tilted, like the floor just slid sideways.

“This isn’t scientific!”

“How did I not know a Soul Gem had a soul? The first Magical Stone didn’t come with perks like this!”

Mizuki and Sham groused in unison, two sparrows chirping under a storm.

A quake ripped through the room, the ground bucking like a caged beast. Walls sliced clean into slabs, dust blooming like ash. Two figures stepped through the broken backside of the wall.

“What—she… that girl…”

Anlis stared at Mizuki, stunned. Mizuki’s school uniform had shed like a snake skin. A Witch’s outfit now rippled around her like night wind.

“An… Artifact Spirit holder…”

Flamebu’s bored mask cracked. Shock bled in, shoulders trembling like leaves. In his eyes, a treasure had flown from his hand like a hawk.

No wonder. Flamebu had chased a Soul Gem to fuel his ambition, clawing at shadows. The rumor of a Second Soul Artifact lit him like dry tinder. He risked stirring the Outer World, prowled Rakuyoku High School, the place that had flickered with a thread of Mystic Power. He turned classrooms like soil, sent thugs to hit students who sparked even a flicker. Knock them out, strip the rumor, check for stones. Nothing. Only empty nets dragged through a silent sea.

A month passed. He moved his private troops like a cold tide. Still nothing. Then he met Miyuki Kiseki, a plain student with a familiar pulse of power. Flamebu, elated, sealed space like a spider spinning a killing web, a neat spot for murder and silence. He’d take the Soul Gem, clean as thunder.

He failed. Miyuki Kiseki was the holder of the Second Soul Artifact. The Magical Stone had chosen its master like a sword choosing a hand.

He had hunted this long. The Gem roosted with a kid. He had planned to steal it, breed a holder in the Flamebu Family, force a Witch like iron in a forge. Now it was dust. The Soul Gem had fallen into someone else’s palm, and that someone was a high school girl yesterday.

His anger rose like a volcano tearing bark from the sky.

“You!”

Air carved lines like knives through silk, trying to rip the whole space open. Every cut rushed toward one point like a river converging.

“Crap… Sham, tell me what to do!”

Mizuki fumbled, panic fluttering like moths. The attack came too fast. The air-splits hit like thrown blades the instant she spoke.

Even Bleach’s Ichigo Kurosaki isn’t this broken!

In a blink, the necklace darted forward like a hawk, facing the blow head-on. A solid shield flowered from it, swallowing the impact like a stone dam catching floodwater.

“You…” Mizuki stared at the necklace, eyes wide as moons.

“You’re a newborn Witch. Still green, my master~”

That mochi-soft loli voice slid in again like warm syrup.

“Impressive. I’ve seen Soul Gems, but none with cheat-tier skills. The first Soul Gem was basically a normal Magical Stone.”

Sham couldn’t help complimenting, a weary soldier hearing a miracle bell.

“Agent over there, sorry for the built-in cheat~ But, my master, you need to fight on your own.”

“Eh? Me? Like this?”

“Relax. I’ll guide you. For now, fight on instinct. That’s how we Artifact Spirits grew up~”

The words barely fell when Mizuki felt her body yanked and hurled like a kite in a squall. Elana—the Soul Gem—had thrown her.

“Wait, hey!!!”

Time didn’t wait. The man ahead raised his katana like moonlight drawn from a sheath.

“Don’t be scared. My master isn’t that weak!”

The Soul Gem surged with Mizuki, star-points kindling across its surface like fireflies in a dusk field.

“Form Two, M1216!”

The stone reshaped, a sleek shotgun unfolding in her hands like a steel blossom.

The barrel spat fire like a hungry dragon, straight at the enemy. Flamebu clicked his tongue. His blade fell like a guillotine. The swarm of pellets split cleanly, clattering onto the floor and ringing like a tinkling rain.

“Go, my master!”

The M1216 dropped into Mizuki’s grip by itself. Cold metal bit her palms like winter water. She felt the world’s malice like a chill wind sliding under her skin.

“Even if you call me…”

“Quit talking. Shoot!”

“…I know. Aaaah!”

Mizuki stopped thinking. She clenched the trigger. Bullets flocked toward Flamebu like sparrows thrown from a cage.

“Petty tricks.”

Flamebu stood unruffled, curling air like ribbons, slicing the incoming rounds like fruit.

“Take this!”

Miyuki Kiseki ran and fired, shell casings raining and chiming like beads.

Air carved fissures like claws, tearing floorboards and walls. The ground under Mizuki bucked like a wave; she nearly fell.

“Haaah!”

She yelled, heat bursting like steam. She just kept firing at the same point, a first battle pounding her heart like a festival drum.

Flamebu tilted aside, slipping past the pelleted swarm. His brow twitched. He wasn’t afraid, but Mizuki was shooting like bullets grew on trees, all of them aimed at him. Keep it up, and even stone gets pitted.

“You think I’m a fool?”

His katana stabbed into the floor, shredding boards like a meat grinder. Splinters surged like spears, all stabbing toward Mizuki’s stance.

“Mizuki!”

Sham’s heart lurched like a bird under an arrow. She moved to help.

The M1216 flew from Mizuki’s hands and unfolded into a giant scythe, cutting the oncoming storm like a crescent moon on black water.

“Form Three, Reaper Scythe!”

The scythe breathed a ghostly violet, a night wind thawing into power. One sweep sent a cleaving wave at Flamebu.

Flamebu’s eyes flickered. He shaped an air-shield in his palm, catching the strike like a cliff catching surf.

“Trash should lie down!”

Anger edged his face like a scar. His blade swung upward, sharp as a comet.

The space shuddered like a drum. Air cut apart, each slice firing like cannon shells, straight at Mizuki and Sham.

Mizuki moved fast. She gripped the scythe and cleaved, splitting the impact like a lumberjack splitting a log. Sham was ready. She shaped Mystic Power, a barrier blooming like ice, and blocked.

It only bought seconds. The ground around them sank in unison like dough collapsing. Glass shattered like rain, floorboards ripped like old cloth, walls toppled like felled trees. The noise bit like gnats in the ear.

Miyuki Kiseki didn’t wait to die. She bolted out of the danger radius, feet flicking like deer hooves. Sham matched her step, spirit in sync like twin shadows.

A whole section of the building sheared off like a slice of cake. One corner dropped to the earth outside like a stone. Shockwaves rolled through the floors like a storm tide. Mizuki and Sham dodged flying rubble, arms too full to counter. This guy was too strong, a cliff in a flood.

“My master, move, or we’ll be diced like tofu!”

“You say move, but I—”

She wanted to say she couldn’t. She swallowed it. Not moving meant dying. She gripped the scythe’s shaft in both hands, resigned and fierce, and dove at Flamebu with a wild cry.

“No you don’t!”

Anlis lunged to block. A figure flashed before her, a shockwave slamming into her like a sudden blast.

“No passage here!”

Sham didn’t flinch. She had eaten dirt before because she met her counter, not because she was weak. She wasn’t built for grapples. This time she had learned.

At point-blank range, a blast bloomed like a quicksilver flower. Anlis flew, caught off guard, the impact tossing her like a leaf.

“Waaah!”

Mizuki’s shout turned strange, a heat-lit howl, like a shonen hero whispering into her bones. Her scythe chopped straight at Flamebu’s head.

Clang!

His blade met it clean, two cold weapons kissing and sparking like flint. His katana danced with a steady rhythm, steps and cuts overlapping like drum beats. He chopped at Mizuki again and again, a storm of steel.

Mizuki backpedaled, blocking and breathing, no room for counters. She was a high schooler, tossed into a swordmaster’s ring, a sparrow against a hawk.

In a blink, the floor near her collapsed, a trap stamped by an invisible hand. She froze for half a heartbeat. His blade swept in. She dodged by luck, but the shock picked her up and flung her like a rag.

“Cough… cough…”

Her body felt like a car had hit it, throat searing like red pepper, organs rattled like dice. She crouched, exhausted, breath scraping like sand.

“What, an Artifact Spirit holder this useless? Boring. You brats boil my blood.”

Flamebu stared at her like a predator watching a tired fawn. He had to admit it: the girl had nicked him, a thin cut but real. Few could wound him. She had poured everything and made a mark. The future drew a sharp silhouette.

He touched his bruised left hand, brow pinching like a knot. This one couldn’t be left alive.

“Ah, this is bad. My master’s first battle, Mystic Power still raw, fighting on instinct like a newborn foal. How can she beat an enemy like this…”

Elana sighed, laughter in tone, surrender in rain. It sounded like hope slipping from her fingers.

“The agent there isn’t doing great either…”

Sham wasn’t much better. Already injured, she’d fought again and burned her wick short. She knelt not far from Mizuki, face pale as paper. She was at her limit.

A Witch, a student not long ago.

And there’s a Witch’s agent too. What a haul... Forget it. Kill these two and take the Soul Gem. No problem, right?

Suit yourself. Either way, the river ends in the same sea.

If it still gets us the Soul Gem, it’s all the same—an arrow flying to the same target.

This really is... Sham let out a bitter smile, a grit of unwillingness grinding like sand in his chest.

Helplessness surged first. I’m going to die again... Mizuki went blank—power blazing inside, yet fate rolled in like a cold tide.

Flamebu wasted no words. His blade drew a scar through air; wind-currents razored the buildings and tore toward them, dragging loose debris.

Mizuki shut her eyes, waiting quietly for fate to fall like winter snow.

Vmm!

Suddenly, blue-violet light flared, weaving rings that sliced apart the oncoming strike like entwined lightning vines.

She opened her eyes. A girl in a black cloak stood before her, beam-blade in hand, fear like smoke blown away.

This was the most important encounter of her life—Miyuki Kiseki.