“Don’t tell me… Alicia…”

Aer nodded, and the last glass-thin delusion in Ling’s heart cracked like frost at dawn.

“Yes… she’s dead… dead for good!” His words fell like a bell; a candle was snuffed in the wind.

A green flash whooshed into being before Aer. He touched it with a single finger, and the Magic Cannon shattered like brittle jade.

“You! Who let you say that?!”

Ling’s voice pressed down like a storm front. Aer shook his hand; when he grabbed Ling’s Magic Cannon, something felt wrong—heat bit his palm like a hidden ember where her shots never used to pierce.

“What’s going on? Why does your Magic Cannon feel stronger?”

Ling’s right hand shot forward like an iron hook and clamped Aer’s throat. She couldn’t lift him—height held her back—but she could pin him like a mountain pinning grass.

She yanked down; Aer’s body buckled to his knees under a tidal pull, pain written across his face like ink on rice paper.

Ling’s jade-green eyes locked on Aer’s blue pupils. The pressure her aura birthed flowed through the crossing gaze like a gale through reeds. Aer felt entombed with death; fear turned to an icy spring soaking him head to toe, and every cell shivered in winter.

“How… how is this even possible… what happened to you…”

He squeezed the words out through grit and fire. This absurd spike in power smashed his forecasts; across all worldlines, this was the first anomaly, a lone star off-course. If this single deviation snapped his plan’s thin thread, the dominoes would fall badly.

But anger made Ling a storm; she wouldn’t stand still to answer his doubts.

“Talk! What the hell is going on?!”

Aer pointed at the small hand crushing his throat; the meaning was clear as moonlight.

Even furious, Ling knew he couldn’t speak like that. She let go, though her eyes stayed wary, a wolf keeping the ridge.

The moment her fingers left him, Aer gulped at the air like a swimmer breaking surface. Not for oxygen—he was a Yokai and breath was a weak need—but to flush out that heart-chilling fear and pain; his body used breathing like a release valve on a boiling kettle.

“You’ve got one minute. Talk!”

Her shout rolled in front of him. Aer lifted his head. Ten green mana orbs floated around her like slow comets; the power inside them was beyond any earlier storm. Before, a full-power Magic Cannon would knock him and he’d be whole again in a single breath. Now, from the weight those orbs radiated, one shot could half-kill him, a hammer to bone.

It was still strange—why had her strength leapt so far? But those trembling spheres looked ready to fire; like a bowstring humming, they pushed Aer to answer first.

“I’ve said it clear. The red text on the Script marks what must happen. It’s not just that it happens; it can’t be changed. Alicia’s death is ‘immutable’—no act of yours can drag her back…”

Ling lowered her head; a thin shadow veiled her face like cloud over moon.

“There’s really no way? Why set a rule that cruel?”

“If I’m honest, there is a way—kind of.”

Aer’s words made Ling snap her head up; a spark of hope colored her gaze like ember in ash.

“Really?!”

“Worldline recording doesn’t err. It tallies every outcome. Alicia’s death is a fixed fact, hard as iron. Nothing can change it—not even the world itself.”

Hope drained again, like a tide pulling back and leaving the shore cold. So she still couldn’t save her?

“But!”

“Huh?!”

“Then let Alicia ‘die.’ That’s enough, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?”

Aer pushed a suddenly appearing pair of black-rimmed glasses; a sharp glint flicked off the lenses like a blade in sun.

“Just fool the world! Put a mask on fate, and we’re good!”

Ling gave him that melodramatic, edgelord look, halfway between cringe and spark.

“Steins;Gate?”

“Exactly. You go to the Underworld and retrieve Alicia’s soul. Then have the Yanluo King wipe the inner data clean—scrub the slate. Put the soul back in the body. Alicia returns, doesn’t she?”

Ling froze for a breath; the method sounded as solid as stone. But…

“But… then Alicia won’t recognize me, right?”

“No-no! I can’t spell out the whole process, but go find the Yanluo King and she’ll give you answers. One thing I’m sure of: her already hazy memories may blur a bit more, like fog thickening. But anything about you won’t vanish—I stake my word.”

Ling held Aer’s gaze like a still lake holding sky. No lie rippled in those blue eyes. This looked like her only path.

“Well? Decided? I can open the gate to the Underworld, but I can’t pin down the Yama Hall. You’ll have to seek it yourself. Go or don’t—that’s on you. Remember, you’re asking the Yanluo King for help. Be proper; threats are dead weight. Her temper is stubborn, iron in willow. If you don’t leave a good first impression, you won’t save Alicia.”

Ling thought for a heartbeat, found herself a clean reason, then nodded like a blade settling into its sheath.

Seeing her agree, Aer opened a red door behind him, vermilion like a fresh seal. He ushered Ling through; the gate slammed shut behind her with a snap like steel.

Once sure Ling had truly gone, Aer lifted the hand that had met her Magic Cannon. No marks marred the skin, but a dull ache crawled like ants under ice, proof her strike was real.

He sighed, eyes steady on where she vanished; resolve flooded his gaze like a river cutting stone.

“The plan has to accelerate. May that strange power not scatter my path…”