Savage artillery stitched together life’s struggle; spilled crimson scored a ballad of valor and grief, telling of war’s cruelty and the worth of every breath.

To get inside the factory and wreck the Divine Ling Family’s Crystal Tower, the Magic Institution chose patience. Step by step, stone by stone, they’d capture every strongpoint and open a road to victory.

So the plan was simple. Fight for one position at a time. Push forward like a tide against rock. A straight rush on the factory felt reckless; that place would be packed with defenders. A rash charge would be a fool’s offering.

Even the Special Task Force lacked the confidence to storm it. Their last unauthorized assault had bled them white, and the orders came down like cold rain: no more acting on their own. They didn’t have the right to be stupid twice.

Slow and steady, then. Not glorious, but wise. It kept their strength intact, like a lantern cupped in both hands.

Today marked Mizuki’s tenth day since leaving her familiar house and school for this strange battlefield. Every night, the guns roared on schedule like thunder clocks. The Witches inside the outposts never stopped moving. Everything she touched was either warm red or cold metal.

Mizuki’s daily rhythm had settled like a drumline: rest in daylight, record at dusk, move at night, do logistics past midnight, then finish as dawn brushed the horizon.

Life was hard. Corpses stared like broken mirrors. Orders sent her to brawl with fate. But she did earn something. Not in killing, not in handling guns. Her greatest gain was a change in heart. She had been straightforward and gentle, and blood had made her freeze like any ordinary person. After the baptism, she shed an old skin.

She didn’t turn numb, and she didn’t turn cruel. She was still herself—approachable, frank, with a thread of justice tied around her wrist. Now she understood responsibility. She no longer went blank at bodies. She didn’t act out. She didn’t run. She mourned the lost, comforted the ones missing their companions, and took up the quiet work in logistics without being asked.

Because of that warmth and the smile she kept at the corners of her mouth, people’s fondness for the girl grew like spring grass.

“Today we ran a recapture operation. Brutal. About three hundred dead. Another record. I talked it over with classmate Sham; we went to mourn them and handled the burials ourselves. Thunder Lady came to help too. Such a good kid.”

“Tonight we won. We’re just steps from the objective. One more push and this could end. The Witches here, plus the Single Leaf Clan folks, were so happy they threw a short celebration. But… Miss Night Phantom, the one who carried the fight, didn’t get praised once. They kept praising us instead. Seeing her sit alone in a corner felt so lonely.”

“Another win. But the little girl I met yesterday died. I found her body while clearing the field, and I couldn’t believe it. I cried again. I don’t even know what number that is. War is merciless.”

“We lost today. Everyone’s mood fell like wet flags, and morale wouldn’t lift. Sham dragged me out to see the moon, said it might reset my heart. I miss home—Mom, Sis, Mayi, Yan Er, Mizuki, Yun Shi… are you all right?”

“Unforgivable. That woman named Guangzi came to mess with Miss Night Phantom again. Damn them. She’s so gentle. Why does she have to suffer this?”

“Feels like the tenth day already. I’ve been gone so long. When can I go home? I want Mom’s cooking. Miss Night Phantom brought me handmade rice balls today. They were so good. The taste was familiar. Have I had this somewhere before…”

Mizuki shut the notebook with a soft breath and stood. Time to meet the others. She left behind that stark line on the cover—War-Life Record—like a blade of black ink.

“Yo, you came, Miss Mizuki.”

Thunder Lady’s smile bounced like sunlight on water.

“Been waiting forever, Mizuki.”

“Sorry to keep you. Let’s go.”

Mizuki smiled, then paused. Her eyes went to the black‑cloaked girl who stood silent like a night statue.

“Miss Night Phantom.” Mizuki’s voice softened like velvet.

“Mm. Don’t waste time.”

Yun Shi spoke flatly, turned, and walked ahead alone. Her shadow cut cleanly across the ground.

Mizuki smiled again and followed without a word, step for step.

The war kept sharpening, like wind against steel. More guns. More fire. And the Crystal Tower problem remained unsolved, locking the battle in a grim stalemate.

At the front, the Witches moved at once. Plumes of fire clawed upward. Explosions rolled like storm drums.

“Form One, Black Iron Wings!”

Wings opened like dusk petals. Mizuki blinked from the ground and became a shape against the clouds. From that high perch, she rained iron slivers down. They bit into flesh. Blood burst into red flowers.

“Form Two, M1216!”

She dropped to the earth, shoulders squared. The shotgun barked. Every round found meat. Bodies buckled like cut bamboo.

A man lunged in with a long sword, point set for her throat. Mizuki’s gut clenched, then her body flipped cleanly over his head, light as a leaf on wind.

“Form Three, Reaper Scythe!”

She brought the blade down. The man jammed his sword up to meet it. Steel kissed steel; sparks jumped like fireflies. Mizuki’s eyes went hard. The Reaper Scythe breathed a violet ghostlight, and the pressure split the man’s blade in two. His motion stilled for good, and the air went quiet around him.

Watching Mizuki kill with clean hands, Yun Shi’s feelings tangled. Days ago this girl couldn’t bring herself to strike. Now she was decisive. Should that bring comfort, or dislike? Her adaptability was a frightening grace.

She remembered that night—the girl sobbing into her chest, helpless as a lost child. The soft one had molted. What stepped out was more grown.

Miyuki Kiseki—she really was the protagonist. That familiar turn, reshaped by calamity, felt like a fate reserved for leads.

Yun Shi couldn’t help the silent complaint in her heart.

Beyond Mizuki’s growth, Yun Shi felt a wider blankness. What will this protagonist become?

After several skirmishes, the factory rose into view, gray and glinting like a tooth in a jaw. Getting there would still be hard. But if they took it tonight, the war’s end would come on quick feet.

That was good news. Mizuki had long grown sick of killing. She wanted this storm to break.

“I see the factory, Miss Night Phantom. Let’s head there.”

“Easy, Miyuki Kiseki. Going now isn’t realistic. Too many people.”

“Don’t worry. I can fly. Up there, they can’t hit us.”

“I have to admit, that’s a good idea.”

They stuck to it. She’d thought of grabbing Sham and Thunder Lady, but Mizuki could only carry so many into the sky. The battle below could roll how it liked; Yun Shi cared about one thing—drag out the Crystal Tower, and her part was done.

“Let’s move. Take me up.”

“Mm. Okay.”

Mizuki nodded, eyes flicking over Yun Shi. She frowned, thought a beat, then chose. Yun Shi watched, mildly puzzled.

Mizuki didn’t mind. Her arms slipped around Yun Shi’s waist, then under her thighs. Yun Shi’s face flared red. Her balance went. The world inverted. She had been looking up into Mizuki’s face; now she only had to glance up to see Mizuki’s chin.

“W–what are you doing!”

Shame hit first, then anger. Yun Shi squirmed. Her hands and legs flailed, trying to break free.

She’d put me in a princess carry.

Even with a sliver of male mind left, Yun Shi hated this. Princess carries were for girls. Why was she the one getting handled?

I’m a guy.

If anyone carries, it should be me. Why you? I’m not the one who gets carried.

“Don’t. If you thrash, I can’t hold tight.”

“No one needs you to hold them. Put me down.”

“No way I’m dropping you now.”

“I said—ah! Don’t just rocket up! I curse you—ah!”

Mizuki ignored the flailing and took the sky. Two shadows—one white, one black—swept across the air, dancing a dangerous waltz.

Mizuki smiled at the girl in her arms. Her heart filled, warm as tea, and a quiet happiness purred inside. Yun Shi’s blush burned under her Goggles. Even her ears and neck went red. In midair, she didn’t dare fight. She had to let herself be held.

This fool was leading her by the nose.

The thought soured her mood.

Mizuki, meanwhile, was delighted. She’d never seen this weak side of Miss Night Phantom. Days ago, this girl’s words had pulled her out of the dark and made her face the world. Mizuki held a special feeling for her. She couldn’t name it. She knew she didn’t dislike it.

She wanted to hold Miss Night Phantom like this forever. Keep her in her arms. Make her hers alone.

That stray thought lodged and glowed.

“Just this once, idiot.”

Yun Shi tucked her face into Mizuki’s coat and muttered, voice a small hive’s hum.

She let Mizuki have one cheap victory.

“Okay.”

Mizuki smiled, bright as a blooming sun, shining with fresh confidence.

She opened her mouth to speak. The sky ahead went dark in an instant. Clouds massed like bruises. Red points sparked inside them. Gorgeous. Terrifying.

“The Crystal Tower’s activated. This fast?”

Mizuki’s shock knocked the breath from her.

She had no time to adjust. Several crimson crystals whooshed straight at them, arrowing for two girls painted on the sky.