Over?

Yukieda still remembered. Last time, she’d used this exact move—unleashing all her magic power to slay the Demon on the spot. Then she’d collapsed into unconsciousness.

This time, she’d learned her lesson. She kept a little reserve, just enough to avoid tumbling headfirst off the rooftop.

As the smoke cleared, the asphalt road was pockmarked with craters of varying sizes. But the Demon was nowhere among them.

The faint smile forming on Yukieda’s lips froze in the night breeze—then scattered like grains of sand.

No trace left?

Did I miss?

No. I definitely hit it. Black, splattered blood stained the ground.

Then where’s the Demon?

Standing on the rooftop, Yukieda clutched her ornate Western rifle, slightly lost, scanning the shadows around her.

“Above you! Yukieda! Look up!” Mai’s voice screamed through the earpiece, raw with panic.

Yukieda looked up. Against the full moon, the lanky, pitch-black Demon had fused its unnaturally long arms. Like a snapped roller-coaster cable, it came crashing down with a deafening *whoosh*.

No time to dodge. Her reaction lagged a heartbeat behind.

She realized instantly: her body was failing her mind. A clear sign her magic power was nearly gone.

She raised the rifle overhead. *Boom!* She blocked the brutal strike with sheer will.

Channeling every last drop of magic into her hands, a brilliant white light flared into the night. The rooftop beneath her feet sank sharply—two deep footprints formed, her legs sheathed in white stockings sinking into the debris.

But the next instant, Yukieda was smashed downward with the house—like a startled mole crushed beneath collapsing earth.

It had been a two-story home with a courtyard. Quality materials hinted at a wealthy owner.

Now, only rubble remained. Debris rained like a volcanic eruption, pelting nearby cars. Shockwaves shattered windows across the street.

Silent streets erupted in chaos. Car alarms wailed endlessly.

The drone feed pulled back.

At command center, Kenji and uniformed officers stared grimly at the screen.

“Failure?” murmured the white-haired elder.

No one answered. Kenji’s face was stone. Mai showed no expression, but his breathing grew heavy.

He zoomed the drone feed again and again, straining to spot Yukieda through the lingering dust.

He was afraid. Mai dreaded seeing a broken doll lying motionless in the wreckage.

A deathly silence settled over the room.

Worst-case plans had to be made. Deploy regular troops next—to lure the Demon away from the city.

The elder’s face darkened. He turned to Kenji, jaw tight.

He almost spat *incompetent*—but remembering the fallen Magical Girl might sway opinions—he drawled with cold arrogance, “What now?”

Kenji stood like a mountain in a thin olive tank top, arms crossed over solid muscle.

“Option A,” he said calmly. “Summon Magical Girls from other districts. Nearest arrival: forty minutes.”

“Option B. Alert the foreign base. Scramble fighters. Send a decoy squad to lure the monster. Then eliminate it.”

The elder nodded once, silent—shifting full command to Kenji.

*Plan A?* Local Magical Girls were Rank D at best. Reinforcements? Rank C. What could they do? This wasn’t just outmatched—it was humiliation.

*Plan B?* The decoy squad would die. Damage control? Unthinkable. City-center airstrikes. Civilian fallout. Public outrage over foreign jets bombing domestic soil.

Someone had to take the blame. Give the people a target.

Kenji knew. His voice stayed flat. “Execute both plans. I’ll take responsibility.”

“Mr. Kenji!” Mai whispered.

Kenji waved him off.

—

*Cough.*

Yukieda clawed her way from the rubble, tossing aside the dented metal pot stuck on her head. She reeked of miso soup. Her costume—splattered with broth, mud, dust—looked less like elegance, more like a filthy sack.

Worse than the grime: her left arm hung numb and useless. No pain there, at least. But her chest and abdomen burned fiercely. She had no idea how badly she was hurt.

Shakily rising, she tapped her earpiece. “Hey.”

Relief flooded the command center.

Mai’s shadowed eyes lit up. He grabbed the headset. “You okay? What’s your status?”

“N-no… it hurts,” Yukieda whispered weakly. “Where’s the monster? Is it…?”

She shook her deadened left hand, gripped the rifle with her right, and stumbled from the wreckage.

Just thinking of that lanky shadow made her legs tremble.

*Too close.* If Mai’s warning had come a second later… she wouldn’t be Yukieda anymore. Just *Yukieda-chan*, broken and still.

Mai switched feeds. The screen shifted to the prowling black silhouette.

“It’s nearby. Hasn’t spotted you yet. Can you continue?”

*Fight again?* Panic flickered in her voice.

“I… I can’t. A few more shots and I’ll pass out. I feel it. I can’t beat it. I’ll die. I don’t want to go back…” Her words trembled—fearful, helpless.

The elder snatched the headset. “This is Omi, operation commander! Return to battle immediately! Your duty is to protect the citizens!”

*Simple math,* Omi thought. *If she survives, Kenji looks foolish. If she falls, I look wise. The losses? Not my fault.*

Static crackled—

“Oriuchi. It’s me.” Kenji’s voice cut through, calm. “Fall back if you can’t win. One more won’t change the tide. No shame in retreating.”

“You coward! You’ll face court-martial!” Omi’s roar echoed faintly.

Kenji continued softly, “Don’t overthink it. Think of Shizuku. You fought to live. Now let Mai guide you out.”

“Thank you… Mr. Kenji,” Yukieda breathed.

Kenji glanced back. Mai held the sputtering Omi. Kenji snorted, handed the headset to Mai—then *crack!*—his muscular arm snapped Omi’s head sideways. Glasses flew. The old man spun, stunned.

“You dare strike a superior? You’re finished!”

“I activated the plans. Did you think I feared consequences? One more charge means nothing.”

*Mr. Kenji…* Yukieda felt a quiet warmth. She channeled her last magic into her legs. Time to run.

She glanced back at the fast-food shop sheltering civilians—a giant hamburger logo, the flickering “KIN_" neon sign.

*Sorry. I can’t save you.*

Wind magic lifted her steps. She moved fast.

Then—gunfire. The special squad still fighting.

*Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.*

“Daddy!”

A child’s cry rode the wind straight to her ears.

Yukieda froze. Tears in her eyes, she turned and ran back.

She gathered the last flicker of magic at her rifle’s tip and fired. Predictably, the Demon’s gaze snapped to her.

*That’s it. I’m really done for.*

Dodging desperately, she shouted into the earpiece between breaths.

Mai, the moment he saw her turn, switched to private channel.

“Mai. If you like my daughter… wait till college. Study hard. No dating. If not, watch over her. Visit my grave yearly. Shizuku loves parfaits—buy some, but not too many. Tell everyone I went abroad to study.”

Her earlier attacks *had* weakened it. The Demon’s strikes were slower now.

But not enough. When her magic vanished—so would she.

“Stop staring! Run!” she yelled at the crowd below.

A shadow lashed out. She raised her rifle—

*BOOM!*

An explosion erupted beside her. Seven, eight drones swarmed the Demon like tiny angels, firing relentlessly. Damage was light—but not zero.

“It’s me, Yukieda! Don’t give up! Your hits *worked*—just not fatal!” Mai’s voice crackled.

“I-I know! But I’ve got almost no magic left! I can’t aim!”

“Because you fired rapidly! Channel everything into *one* shot!”

“I can—but it’s slow! It’ll slice me into sashimi during the charge!”

Another dodge. The storage shed beneath her exploded—hammers, nails, pipes flying.

“Bullets *slow* it! So—”

“So?!”

“Kenji’s en route! Do it—concentrate your magic!”

“What?”

A thunderous *whump-whump-whump* shook the sky. Helicopter rotors.

Yukieda and the Demon looked up together.

Louder than the blades was Kenji’s booming laughter, filling the heavens.

There he was—bare-chested, bandolier across his chest, gripping a rotary cannon like a steering wheel.