“How do you plan to fight me?”

Borel, perched atop the Demon’s shoulder, looked down at Yukieda without even glancing at the Magical Girl beneath her feet.

She idly toyed with her long, jet-black nails. No more pesky flies buzzing around to distract her—probably all retreated. She didn’t care. Only the figure before her mattered now.

This snow-white girl, darting like a fox.

“Tonight, I win! As you humans say—this is the power of love!”

Borel burst into maniacal laughter.

Yukieda watched her press a light kiss to the giant’s forehead. Instantly, the Demon charged like a frenzied bull.

All she could do was defend.

Yukieda shot the Demon a bitter glare and muttered,

“Traitor.”

Her mission had just changed. Mr. Kenji’s new orders: cover the allied forces’ retreat, then hold position for reinforcements.

Reinforcements? What could possibly come now?

Her thoughts drifted to that night—fighter jets roaring overhead.

*Mr. Kenji…*

She glanced toward the command vehicle in the distance.

Yukieda leaped between lampposts; Borel, riding the Demon’s shoulder, chased relentlessly.

No time to turn. Only dodge.

“Jumping, jumping!”

Like whack-a-mole—Yukieda fled one post, the Demon smashed the next.

Bulbs flickered, then exploded with the grating screech of twisted steel.

Fed up, Borel leaped down. Her ominous whip cracked through the air.

Streetlights and buildings toppled like wheat.

Yukieda glanced back. She could cushion landings with wind, but not hover long. She landed lightly on a red rooftop.

Silently, she faced the ten-meter-tall Demon—an unmistakable target—and the Witch on its shoulder.

Radio crackled: *Allied forces fully withdrawn.*

“Finally stopped running? I’d have leveled this city if you kept fleeing!”

The Demon’s fist slammed down.

The building crumbled. Warm homes became rubble, dust choking the air.

Borel and the Demon peered into the debris. No trace of the Magical Girl.

*Run again?*

*Is running all you know?*

Then—a surge of magical energy flared at her flank.

Both turned. Yukieda stood on another rooftop, her western-style pistol now twin barrels, aimed dead-on.

*Whoosh~*

A whisper-cut through night. Silver hair whipped back as two beams shot upward like scissors tearing black cloth—straight for Borel.

So fast… Her magic control had sharpened terrifyingly.

“Yagoku!”

Borel conjured a barrier. The Demon swung its arm to block her view.

*Boom!* The arm vanished—erased like pencil under an eraser.

But a pure-white magical bullet followed.

It struck Borel’s barrier, spun weakly like a dying top, then faded.

Borel’s breath hitched. *One inch closer… my brain gone again. Minutes of memory lost.*

*Thank magic I had reserves.*

She stroked the smoking Demon beneath her, then roared,

“You little white piglet! All you do is run and sneak!”

No second chance. Yukieda fired blindly backward—no aim, no hope of hitting vital spots.

Her style was long-range. Forced into close combat. Alone. Against two.

Borel deflected one shot, dodged the next with ease.

Impossible to counter.

Summoning the second weapon drained Yukieda fast.

Her heart hammered. Legs in white stockings felt leaden.

Borel? Unslowed. Unshaken.

Yukieda swallowed dryly. *What now?*

She’d radioed Mr. Kenji. *“Hold on. Reinforcements coming.”*

What reinforcements?

She knew Mr. Kenji—calm, no, *cold*. To eliminate Borel, he might…

She dared not finish the thought.

A misstep. The whip caught her ankle.

A cry tore from her throat. Flung like a bowling ball, she crashed through walls.

*This feeling… Will I die?*

She scrambled up. Her white costume torn. Smooth back streaked with wounds.

True to prediction—the Demon’s fist cratered the rubble where she’d lain.

Borel watched, amused. *Like whack-a-mole. A little white mouse.*

Her taunts never ceased.

“What are you clinging to? Haven’t you noticed? Humans abandoned you. No one’s fired a shot for you in ages.”

Yukieda stayed silent—not refusal, but breathlessness.

“Do you think they trust you? The moment you gained power, you stopped being human. They’re *using* you.”

The Demon smashed a garage. Firelight flashed—distracting it for a split second.

Crouched on a rooftop, Yukieda channeled magic. Ribbons coiled around her pistol flared.

“And Yagoku? Is *he* just being used too?”

Borel’s smile froze.

“You’re dead.”

Predictably, the Demon blocked.

Magic blew a hole through its arm—but it regenerated visibly.

Yukieda, cornered, spat back,

“Don’t talk about *me* seeking death. You never wanted me alive, you black *****.”

She stopped running. Stood firm. Ready.

“Good. Running was pointless.” Borel drifted down on wind currents, magic swirling into her whip. “I’ll grant you an honorable death—for entertaining me.”

Dark energy gathered, its dull glow swallowing moonlight.

Yukieda stood still. Waiting?

Then—head lifted. Posture straight. Magic surged. Black ribbons on her pistol bloomed like night roses, radiating allure.

*Just as Mai predicted…*

Yagoku materialized between them—taking hits from both sides.

*(Earlier, while Yukieda played whack-a-mole:)*

“Yukieda—notice? White weapon? Borel uses a barrier. The other? She summons the Demon to block.”

Yukieda gasped, “Yes! Exactly!”

“So… that weapon bypasses her shield?”

*(Now.)*

Yukieda panted, knee bent, pistol gripped tight. She’d reclaimed the second weapon—converted to magic.

Before her, Borel’s face darkened. Yagoku knelt, smoke rising from his wounds.

“You figured it out. That weapon ignores my defense.”

Borel tilted her chin up, remembering last time—her head blown off despite full defense.

“Yes,” Yukieda said softly. “Suddenly, this is simple.”

To her, an undefended Borel was no different from a girl sitting exposed on a bus in a lawless district.

*Where’s her core? Chest? Abdomen? Limbs? Too risky. Not the head.*

Borel caught her gaze. Smirked.

“Want to see?” She lifted her black skirt. “Come closer. I’ll spread it open for you.”

Exhausted but unbroken, Yukieda shot her a look of pure contempt.

“Disgusting.”

“You’re the one disheveled. Who’s disgusting?”

A roar behind her—

Yagoku revived! A massive handprint scarred the rooftop where she’d stood.

Borel tsked, shrugging. “Bypass my defense? *So* scary. But I still have him. What about you?”

She resettled on the Demon’s shoulder. Yukieda stared up, lost.

Her magic was fading. One foe was hard enough. Two? Impossible.

Then—a familiar *whoosh* split the sky.

Planes.

Borel smirked down. “See? I told you. They don’t see you as one of them.”

Ignoring Yukieda’s stunned silence:

“Yagoku. Let’s go.”

“Where are you going?”

Yukieda stepped squarely into their path.