The open earth lay torn and incomplete, a battlefield of splintered stone and cracked buildings tilting like broken teeth.

Across the gap, the sky showed through, stained the color of spilled ink.

Inside this structure, almost nothing remained whole, as if a blade had carved clean lines, baring brick within pale cement like bones under skin.

It looked like an earthquake’s bite, a giant jaw that chewed and spat.

But this wasn’t nature’s temper; it was a human hand cutting scars into the land.

Look close and the marks told on themselves, deliberate grooves, not wind or rain, more script than storm.

On the wrecked concrete, three girls stood as if windless within a storm, untouched by dust or debris.

The girl in the black cloak eased a breath, a quiet mist in cold air, then turned to face the two standing near.

The enemy that snarled at them before had withdrawn, and the strays had scattered like startled crows; the building belonged to the three of them now.

“Looks like it’s over. Thanks for the timely arrival, Miss Witch.” The voice came bright and human, from the Artifact Spirit, a lantern with its own flame.

“I searched so long. If you weren’t such trouble magnets, I wouldn’t be here scraping the bottom.” Yun Shi’s words fell like sleet, sharp and chill.

“Alright, alright, we got our happy end anyway. No point poking at loose threads.” Sham’s grin popped like sunlight through cloud, careless and warm.

Miyuki Kiseki—Mizuki—stared at the cloaked girl, blank as unmarked snow, her lips still.

“What’s wrong?” The question drifted like a leaf.

“—N-no, nothing…” Mizuki’s gaze skittered away, a moth avoiding flame.

“She became a Witch…?” The thought left the cloaked girl like smoke from a cooling ember.

She breathed out, thin and controlled, then set her eyes on Sham like a blade laying flat.

“Sorry. I really had no other option then. And… Mizuki is the true bearer of the Second Soul Artifact. Letting her sign was best.”

“If I hadn’t borrowed her strength, I might not have lasted until you came.” Sham’s voice carried a soft ache, like rain on an old roof.

“It’s alright. I never blamed you, Sham.” Mizuki stepped forward, a reed gone firm in a rising current.

“I did this willingly. If I can save a friend, I’ll do anything. I won’t stand there like frozen rain and do nothing.”

Her expression settled, granite beneath snow, speaking without sound: if the road runs to the end of hell, step by step is still a path.

She seemed changed, a river re-cutting its banks.

Yun Shi watched, a thin loneliness drifting up like evening fog; her Goggles hid the dulling of her eyes, a night tide slipping out.

She had thought Mizuki was like her, once ordinary, once brash; Mizuki had fallen into shadow—so what about Yun Shi, where did her path curve?

She didn’t know; the future was a blank sky refusing to storm.

“You don’t know a thing.” The words were iron filings, bitter and fine.

This world is a labyrinth, not a straight road; that girl rushed in on hot blood like a lantern sprinting into wind.

No way back now, and still she clung to her ideals, rigid as winter branches.

How naïve can a heart be?

“You just got lucky. One wrong step and you’d be ash in the rain. Stop putting on a brave face when you don’t understand.”

Anger rose, a dark wave smacking stone; that idiot ignored warning after warning and dove deeper.

Worst of all, inside the dark she still spoke big, saying she couldn’t bear to do nothing, a bell clanging in the storm.

What a joke. If she’d cried like a normal person, lost and scared, Yun Shi might have understood, might have sympathized, might have felt guilt.

Anger wouldn’t have taken root, a thorn in the palm.

“Miyuki Kiseki, you hopeless fool. I’m done with you.” The sentence snapped like a twig underfoot.

Do whatever you like; I won’t be your net or your shore.

Walk your chosen road and taste regret like cold salt.

“Um… even if Mizuki’s become a Witch, I’ll look after her,” Sham said, voice a soft lamp in dusk.

“She’s tangled with the Magic Institution now. I promise I won’t let her sink deeper into the dark.”

“Hmph. Do as you please.” Yun Shi didn’t look back.

She stepped away, her cloak shivering like a raven’s wing, vanishing down the broken corridor.

Mizuki watched that small back, that cloak that shook with each step, her gaze gone still and wide as a winter pond.

She felt a familiar scent from the girl, like cedar smoke after rain, yet she couldn’t place it.

The girl looked so lonely; that loneliness pulled at Mizuki like tide, drawing her closer without asking.

Even so, from her tone, she must dislike me, Mizuki thought, a thorn pricking the skin.

“Night Phantom, right…?” The name remained like a single footprint in dust.

It didn’t sound like a real name, more shadow than syllable.

But Mizuki wanted to know her, to map that night road; one day, she even wanted to protect that girl, a shield against the wind.

She didn’t know why; the feeling glowed like a hidden coal.

“Don’t stare. She’s gone.” The Artifact Spirit tugged her back, a bell-knock on the door of her daze.

“Mm…” Mizuki’s answer fell soft as a feather.

With the girl gone from sight, disappointment pooled like a low tide.

“Let her rest,” Sham said, smile like warm tea.

“She’s probably hurt. You’ll see her again. She’s my contracted partner too, your sister in craft.”

“Maybe you’ll end up coworkers.” Sham’s grin flashed, a banner on a breeze.

“Really?!” Mizuki’s voice brightened, a spark leaping dry grass.

“Yeah. She’s in Japan, same as you. Plenty of chances ahead,” Sham said, easy as summer wind.

Sham’s carefree smile might be unreliable most days, but to Mizuki now, it shone like an angel’s face in lamplight.

“My master, we should restore the damage in this sealed space.” The Artifact Spirit’s tone rang clear, a tuning fork in the quiet.

“It’s fine. We’ll mend it with Mystic Power,” Sham said, confidence steady as a mason’s hand.

“Once repairs finish, we lift the sealed space. Everything snaps back like a spring.”

“My Mystic Power’s running low. Mizuki, lend me a little, okay?” Her request hovered like a ribbon.

We’ll meet again, Mizuki thought, a promise tied like red thread.

For now, I’ll learn to breathe in your world, by degrees like dawn breaking.

Night Phantom…

Somewhere on Earth, in a corner of the map, a grand cathedral glowed, gilded but not stern, like sunlight through stained glass.

Faith hung in the air like incense, and music rose and fell, echoing through arches like a gentle tide.

At the center stood a woman in a white nun’s habit, golden waves of hair over her shoulders, her face mature and perfect like an oil painting.

Her figure curved with balance, ripe in her twenties, a velvet allure particular to grown women, beauty stepping out of a frame.

“A new bearer of an Artifact Spirit has appeared?” Her voice flowed warm and smooth, a silk ribbon edged with temptation.

“Yes. This time, the one acknowledged is a girl from Japan.” The reply came crisp, a young bell note.

“Another choice from the East.” Her words settled like snowfall.

“Yes. The Soul Gem was forged by our Church, blending tech from the Magic Institution and the Clan Head,” the voice answered, light as rain.

“But the Artifact Spirit keeps choosing people with no direct ties to either.”

“Last time, it chose someone of the Clan Head’s line. I thought the Clan Head held every advantage.”

“But the bearer betrayed the Clan Head, a thunderclap that widened my eyes.”

“And now, it chose an ordinary person from the Outer World, a leaf from the surface blown down into our roots.”

“…” Silence stretched, thin as gauze.

“This time, a Witch born of the Second Soul Artifact surprised me.” Her gaze sharpened, a hawk sighting movement.

“But the true center remains the First Vessel Soul.”

“She’s the lever that shifts the Underworld, the key in the lock. The other is the hand that pushes.”

How delightful to anticipate, she thought, the smile a crescent moon.

“Night Phantom.”