Dawnlight recognized the Arcane Firearms in the hands of the three Magic Maidens—custom builds from the Order Keeper. Normally you can’t even get these approved. But that time, the Twelfth District faced a tide of Monsters; Cantata Two were beyond counting, and First Symphony were numberless.

To stem the monsters, the Twelfth District’s Order Keeper issued a batch of these modified units. They pack only two-thirds the punch of Night Frost’s t‑series Arcane Firearms, but they’re solid—dozens of rounds turn the weaker beasts into sieves.

Midair, Dawnlight steadied herself, drifted to a jutting ledge, let her wings fade, and plucked the arcane round from the skin of her Magic Layer like a thorn.

Unease pricked her: with these guns and their powers, First Symphony should’ve been no problem. So why did this arcane round hit so hard?

It should only scrape a Cantata Two’s Magic Layer, like hail on slate; yet it pierced hers through a veil of shielding, like a needle through rice paper.

She looked to the moon, a tarnished coin in a soot-black sky. Night fattens the dead. With three empowered First Symphony wraiths and guns that bite Cantata Two, they might actually hold both Night Frost and her.

Night Frost saw the bullet’s power. Dawnlight’s Magic Layer isn’t that flimsy; even with a hurried shield, a single round punched through. Night Frost’s own gun could barely manage that.

Night Frost didn’t know guns, but she knew this: with that kind of force, she couldn’t catch a round head‑on.

The three Magic Maidens formed a triangle—that’s the Order Keeper’s beginner drill. Multi-angle pressure, pin the target, leave no gap to flee; a net pulled tight.

“Looks like they want to practice on me…”

Night Frost stood in the ring. Crimson Gold Flame climbed her hands; the dim street flushed bright, like iron in a forge.

In front, two Magic Maidens were already casting from the Magic Maiden Universal Spell Compendium—both shielding spells. The one behind funneled mana into her gun, aiming to punch through Night Frost’s Magic Layer in one shot.

They looked like fresh initiates, magic still new on their tongues. Not prodigies, but solid. With Arcane Firearms to patch their damage, Night Frost felt a prickle of trouble.

Crimson Gold Flame hovered around her. Fire pooled at her feet, ready to surge into walls and wrap her like a cloak. Then—three shots cracked.

Two rounds sank into the firewalls, melted by the Crimson Gold Flame. Residual powder and mana sizzled, spit and crackled. The last round punched straight through.

In the ring, any dodge would draw two follow‑up shots from the other sides. Flee one angle and the other two adjust. That’s the advantage of this drill.

The bullet didn’t grant time to think. As the mana‑shrouded round tore the wall, its spin scraped the heat, flinging sparks with a sharp burst.

Night Frost pulled flame to her side, trying to slow the round. Then she crouched low and sprinted at the shooter—the one without a shielding spell, a fox slipping under brambles.

Without a shield, she should be easy prey. Some of the hovering Crimson Gold Flames smashed into the bullet; other tufts streaked like comets toward the three corners under Night Frost’s command.

Fire underfoot thrust her forward. Her jade‑pale fingers dipped into a lingering blaze and drew out a Crimson Gold Spear.

Before the girl could react, Night Frost lunged low, right leg driving, and thrust the Crimson Gold Spear.

Hit—? No.

The spear met the girl’s form, yet there was no bite, no weight. Night Frost knew this one differed from the others—the shielded girls had bodies; this one was something else…

Maybe no true body. Maybe a power.

Even with the miss, Night Frost slipped the net. Before they re‑formed, she sprinted for the base of Dawnlight’s building, leaving the shielded Magic Maidens far behind.

But a heartbeat later, a bullet flew from the void with a razor hiss. Night Frost knew that wind‑cut sound. She snapped a t‑series gun from her hip, while her other hand’s spear split the round mid‑flight.

The bullet burst; the Crimson Gold Flame on the spear blew apart in a small storm.

Night Frost dipped one hand into her own fire and drew another spear. Her gun brimmed with Crimson Gold mana.

She set the spear before her and squeezed the trigger. Crimson Gold mana clenched into a pure magic round. It passed through the vanishing girl and hammered one of the two pursuers behind.

The mana detonated, devouring the shield spell’s power. Crimson Gold Flame roasted her skin; in a breath she fell into charred dust that drifted like soot.

Her shot never truly hit the disappearing girl, no sensation at all. But it could hit the two with bodies behind.

If she couldn’t parse that girl’s power, couldn’t name the trick, the unknown would stalk her heels—a thorn of threat that wouldn’t let Night Frost breathe easy.

Night Frost’s Crimson Gold Flame burns hotter than Black Flame, but lacks Black Flame’s cling‑and‑consume, that maggot‑on‑bone hunger. Against foes, it acts like ordinary fire.

So vivid a color, yet no special edge. Is it just for show?

Her skirt rippled with the flames. She faced the other girl with a body and hurled her spear. Take out the solid threat, and the board gets simpler.

Mana refilled the gun. Night Frost was a breath from the building’s base. Above, Dawnlight had formed the Holy Lance; she only needed the ghost to take shape to strike true.

But this time, the girl didn’t show. She sank into the night, an unseen wraith—no, she was a ghost now.

Night Frost scanned every patch of air. No trace. Did she leave?

Impossible.

If not nearby, then where? Lying in wait to strike the moment Night Frost relaxed?

Is she that clever?

Judging by earlier moves, these things know tactics. Not like the zombie‑types that only wail for help.

They can coordinate, if a bit stiff. Otherwise Night Frost wouldn’t have broken through so easily.

If she’s thinking and she’s a ghost, she’ll go for the greatest threat first, the way they tried to drop Dawnlight and ignored Night Frost passing by.

Dawnlight’s holy light—like the clerics in tales and film—hits undead hard. So her target would be Dawnlight, still preparing on the rooftop!

“Careful!”

Night Frost reached out, but it was late. A cold gun pressed to Dawnlight’s left back. She whipped around and hurled the Holy Lance; it slammed into the concrete rooftop with a thunderous crash.

The bullet bit into Dawnlight’s back. Blood arced like a scarlet crescent. She clutched her chest, sealing the wound with mana, but her body wouldn’t hold.

She tipped backward, wicked gravity tugging her down. She fell in slow dread and barely hooked a hand on the edge.

The girl hurt too. She didn’t take the lance head‑on, but the Holy Lance’s clean light seared through her unseen body. The Abyssal Aura that made her, the smear of hatred and spite, was shaved away by half.

The girl dropped to her knees. Her form turned transparent—not by choice, but because her Abyssal Aura couldn’t hold a focused soul anymore.

She raised her dim gun. It wasn’t metal at all, just a piece of the Abyssal Aura that made her body.

A round spat from the barrel. A dull spark punched into Dawnlight’s pale palm. She couldn’t hold anymore; she dropped from the high ledge.

Night Frost planted on a plastic lip beside the pipe and sprang up. She threw out her arms, caught the falling Dawnlight, then stamped off a railing and landed on the rooftop edge.

The ghost hadn’t expected Night Frost so fast. She should have kept Dawnlight; now she had to run.

But Night Frost gave no quarter. Crimson Gold Flame wrapped the girl; mana sealed her in. The array on Night Frost’s body drew out Abyssal Aura and shaped a barrier, its Array Pattern glowing like char traced by embers.

That was the method Night Frost had devised to end her. The array was crude, good for a minute at best—but a minute was enough!

The girl hammered the array’s edge. She scraped off a piece of the Array Pattern burned by flame. The formation wobbled; Night Frost’s fire was rapidly incinerating the mana within, and the Abyssal Aura was thinning fast.

Her figure grew more unreal, and the array neared its limit. When the Abyssal Aura was finally stripped away, the girl dimmed and scattered into nothing.

The formation shattered. Night Frost, drained of too much mana, slumped to the ground. That girl should be gone for good… right?

But as she moved to leave, she caught sight of a gun on the ground coalescing. The outline ghost, barely a sketch, squeezed the trigger. All her dying strength poured into the bullet.

Night Frost tried to slip aside, but the ghost clamped her ankles. The bullet was too close. She could only stack firewalls to block that final strike.

One layer… two… three…

The walls were drilled through. Two frail curtains remained. Night Frost’s mana burned like a guttering lamp.

Eyes shut, Dawnlight pressed her chest. Holy light surged from her wrist. A knight’s longsword of light sheared off the girl’s hands and pierced her body.

The bullet and the girl both scattered, utterly, into the wind.