Mahou Shoujo Ikusei Keikaku - Volume 15 - Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22

THE END HAS COME

  Ragi Zwe Nento

He was going to build a basic gate in the rear garden of the main building.

If that were all, it would be the simplest plan, but this actually required methods that were not simple.

In order to make a path from within, you would have to touch Sataborn’s barrier, which secured the island. Ragi knew all about the Sataborn-style barriers in public circulation, from the formulas to their composition. But of course Sataborn himself would not use a generic barrier. There had definitely been nasty modifications made, and Ragi would have to do all the analysis, hacking, falsification, and readjustments himself. There wasn’t enough time for a thorough preliminary investigation, and it was really almost like a performance with zero preparation.

There was a mountain of other problems, too. They did not have enough casters or enough tools, and, most of all, there was not enough time. You always had to make do with what limited time and resources there were in the field, but this time was going over the line.

Ragi tugged on the brim of his hat and readjusted it to bring it lower over his eyes. Even the light of the sun was irritating.

“We’ll use the trees where the grayfruit grow,” he said.

“Shall I go gather fruit?” Yol asked him.

“There’s no need to eat the fruit—actually, that would be harmful. Not the fruit—we use the roots. The trees that bear the fruit are in fact all the same body connected underground on the island through the roots they put down. If we have one single root or stem, we should be able to suck up power from that. We will divert all that into our ceremony.”

Ever since they’d come to this island, there had never been a moment when they had not been tormented by those grayfruit. He wouldn’t say this was for revenge, but if he could use them, then he should do so as much as possible. Sucking up the power of the trees and making them wither would stop the weakening of the mages and magical girls, so you could call it killing two birds with one stone.

“The roots are laid out underground all over the island…,” Yol said, “so, then, if they all dry up at once, then won’t the ground fall apart?”

“If we open up a hole in the barrier, all space aside from the ground will warp a little regardless. But there’s no landlord here to complain. Don’t you worry. We’ll be all right so long as we get away from the buildings, just in case.”

Even if he did connect the force field and the roots and suck up power, it wasn’t like that would solve everything. The number one priority should be to shorten the time spent, and he would expend power on that.

Ragi moved just his eyes to look around the area. 7753 and Touta were on hole digging, and Pastel Mary had set about mass-producing sheep. Yol was looking up at Ragi with a serious expression.

His plan to have all the people here escape at once was not going to work. They didn’t have enough time or casters. He would get Touta and Yol out and have them seek help. Even if Yol’s family appealed to send help, as to whether they would make it in time or not—they would not. Before they came, all the survivors on the island would meet their miserable fates and get killed by the incarnation base.

If he could somehow try to work out just a little more, then would he be able to add one more person to get out? If he wasn’t including anyone not here right now in the calculation, then 7753 or Pastel Mary? Right now Mary was drawing sheep so intently, you wouldn’t believe she’d seemed so dim-witted before. 7753 was giving instructions to Touta, and she was acting just like a magical girl with a long service record and strong leadership skills.

He felt like if he were to ask either of them to sacrifice themselves for the kids, they would tearfully agree. But he had no desire to sacrifice a magical girl who would agree with tears in her eyes.

Ragi’s thoughts were pushed further ahead by the sounds of explosions in the forest. It was clear there was no time.

“I found a root! It’s extending that way!” Yol called out.

“Hurry! Just hurry!”

  Nephilia

Nephilia loved nasty people. She liked people of just the right amount of nasty, those who weren’t too nasty, who had a human weakness influenced by their emotions. Nephilia was of course aware that enjoying observing that sort of nastiness made her nasty, too.

Marguerite never lost her fighting spirit even when injured, trying to follow the enemy. Helping her out, joining her in heading into danger, was not nasty. You could even say that it went against Nephilia’s principles. Had Marguerite’s spirit affected her, or was she angry because the pleasingly nasty Agri and Ren-Ren had been killed? A nasty person was a nasty person because they’d set aside all of that to prioritize their own safety. Pushing through her wounds and lending Marguerite a shoulder to walk with her was in fact the polar opposite of nasty.

In that sense, it was fair to say that Nephilia was very much wavering in her convictions. However, having no fixed axis and no consistency in your life was plenty nasty. In other words, that meant that right now Nephilia was still nasty after all, and she could relax.

It was important to confirm that she was feeling normal. When a magical girl was about to die, she was often in an abnormal mental state, whether a good or a bad one.

The sound of footsteps on earth and dead leaves sounded in the forest at a fixed tempo. In the state Marguerite was in, it wouldn’t be strange for her to die at any moment, but her feet were firmly moving forward. There was a strong light in her eyes. Her lips were soundly closed. She didn’t look like someone who was about to die, and she didn’t even look like someone who was prepared to die.

No, Nephilia mentally corrected herself. Nephilia should be the one prepared for death. If the goddess couldn’t perceive a magical girl who could no longer transform, then the one she would attack would not be Marguerite, but Nephilia.

Maybe Marguerite had calculated as much. If that was the case—Nephilia stole a glance at the face of the woman walking at her side and laughed ksh-shh.

It would be best not to make conjectures using the logic of a nasty person. In any case, from here on out was not territory where a nasty person could work behind the scenes as such. If a battlefield in the true sense of the word awaited Nephilia ahead, then she had to get through this first.

  Miss Marguerite

Nephilia glanced at Marguerite’s face and gave that giggle of hers. Marguerite couldn’t understand what was so funny, but her support alone made Marguerite feel a wealth of gratitude. She digested these feelings but didn’t ask the reason for Nephilia’s enigmatic smile. In the first place, there wasn’t the time to be thinking about anything but the goddess.

The goddess’s steps were sound, not at all giving a sense of how badly wounded she was. But if she was leaving clear traces, then she wasn’t using the Inspection Department’s way of walking. Was she struggling that much now, or was it because she thought it best to walk a different way while she was heavily wounded?

Blood flowed from Marguerite’s body—rather, it poured out of her, chilling her to the point that the heat of Nephilia’s body felt feverish. But the blood loss didn’t dull Marguerite’s mind; in fact, she was more alert than usual. At the very least, it felt like that to her.

The goddess had two special characteristics that ordinary magical girls did not have.

The first was that she couldn’t perceive those whose magic had completely left them.

The second was a capacity for learning so incredible, it rivaled her unique magic.

That first thing was a clear weakness. The second was also bound to become a weakness. When she fought like Dreamy Chelsea, she was less scary than the original because she lacked the spirit and philosophy, and since magical staff technique didn’t take her toughness into account, it had made her oversensitive to attacks. She couldn’t make good decisions about where to use the things she had learned. That was from a lack of experience.

Marguerite carried out a simulation in her head. The enemy didn’t have a weapon. She wasn’t going to be swinging her axes. If she attacked barehanded, she would copy Marguerite, Chelsea, or Clantail. It would be impossible to evade that as a human, so you would have to grab her and keep her from attacking. Marguerite would have Nephilia push her forward, while Nephilia would circle around to restrain the goddess from behind—after thinking that, Marguerite realized something. It seemed she had been meaning to use Nephilia as bait.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized she needed bait. Even if the magical girls at the main building were to draw the goddess’s attention, if she headed over that way, then Marguerite would no longer be able to reach her.

There was no time to think about it. Marguerite drew in a breath and pulled back her chin. “I’m sorry.”

“…About…what?”

“I want you to act as bait…and draw her attention.”

Nephilia didn’t reply, quietly laughing ksh-shh.

  Touta Magaoka

“I’ve found a root! It’s extending that way!”

“Hurry! Just hurry!”

Everyone was trying their best to do what they could do. Driven onward by the wafting burnt smell, the strong sunlight, the occasional rocking of the ground, and the loud sounds hitting their ears, they moved around, carried things, gave instructions, discussed, and drew pictures.

They were all doing work that only they could do: Pastel Mary was scrawling with her pastels to continue to create sheep, 7753 was taking on the heavy work with a strength that was unimaginable from her appearance, and the old mage Ragi was giving Yol a lecture on the ceremony.

Because he was not a mage or a magical girl but just a boy in elementary school, there was no special work that Touta had to be the one to do. But he couldn’t be getting sulky or mope about it. At this point, it was enough for him to just be able to do odd jobs. They really didn’t have time.

There were so many things he wanted to ask the others about that had happened, and he also had a mountain of things he wanted to talk about, but they didn’t even have the time for that sort of exchange of information.

A sheep passed by in front of Touta. It was about half a size bigger than the others, with a thick and bulging overall musculature. The sheep was carrying without complaint a big metal cabinet that seemed like it would be difficult for Touta to even lift.

If you weren’t paying much attention when you looked at them, the sheep would all appear similar as clones, but they had unique features. Some were straightforward, like a large frame, while other differences were subtle, like sharp fangs peeking out from a sheep’s mouth, or wool that sparkled in the light, or facial features that looked smart, or snorting a lot.

Touta was working with the sheep. He wasn’t identifying their traits for no reason. He would give the sheep instructions that matched their size and temperament, like “Bring that over here,” or “Carry this over there”—basically, he was working as the leader of the sheep squad, so he had to look at the sheep. Their master, Pastel Mary, was busy creating more, but you’d worry about having the sheep work alone. So basically, he was a sheepdog.

“Oh, carry that over there. It seems like they have to open up some space there.”

The sheep with sharp fangs gave a little nod and dragged off a plastic container bigger than itself.

They did properly understand words and would listen to what you told them. Apparently, the sheep that would go against orders or didn’t understand would go out on their own into the forest to begin with. Or rather, since about nine out of every ten sheep Pastel Mary created would do whatever they wanted, only the good and competent sheep stuck around to help out with these tasks.

Working together with the sheep, Touta suddenly noticed one sheep wandering in from the forest. It didn’t seem like it was going to help, and it was watching the others diligently working like they were silly. It had goggles on its head.

Touta had just been kind of looking that way, but now his eyes caught on the goggles. Narrowing his eyes, he looked at 7753. She wasn’t looking at the sheep, and she was making a lot of clanking noises as she separated a cabinet into parts.

If Touta’s memory was correct, those goggles were 7753’s. But if 7753 wasn’t mentioning that herself, then maybe they just looked similar and were actually something else.

Without stopping at his task, Touta repeatedly looked at the sheep and at 7753. He would never say so to the woman herself, but 7753 seemed rather inattentive. It seemed plausible that she was just failing to notice that her goggles were within reach.

And Pastel Mary seemed even more thoughtless than 7753. What if she’d forgotten she’d been holding on to 7753’s goggles, forgotten that she’d put them on the head of a sheep, and had left them like that? It seemed likely.

The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed that their inattention had combined here. Though he had only just met these magical girls on coming to this island, and he hadn’t talked to them that much, they were bad enough that it even seemed that way to him, so it surely wouldn’t be strange for such a thing to happen.

Touta struck his knee with an “All right” and headed over to 7753 at a trot, avoiding the coming and going sheep as he went. 7753 didn’t turn to look at him approaching, looking instead at the stuff that had been in the cabinet.

Even if Touta stood in front of her and said, “Pardon me,” 7753 didn’t stop, so he called out a notch louder, “Pardon me,” and when he put a hand on her shoulder, she finally looked at him.

Touta pointed at that sheep. “That sheep over there…”

7753’s eyes widened and her mouth opened wide, and she yelled, “Ahh!” in a surprisingly loud voice. Ragi and Yol looked over at her. Pastel Mary didn’t lift her head from her sketchbook.

7753 wandered over to the sheep with the goggles. The sheep raised its back legs, but 7753 was unconcerned with the sheep’s behavior, calling out, “Ahh!” again. It was even louder than the first time.

“I was wondering where they’d gone…” 7753 took a step closer, and the sheep ran a step away, and 7753 took a step closer, and the sheep took a step away, and Touta thought that it would get away at this rate, but right as he was about to pipe up and say so, 7753 loomed in front of the sheep, goggles already in hand. Magical girls moved fast. It was a piece of cake for her to move too fast for Touta or the sheep to see.

With trembling hands, 7753 put on the goggles. The sheep before her bleated and ran off, but she totally ignored it. Then more bleating followed from the forest as well, and a bunch of sheep dashed out. They were followed by sheep that scattered in all directions at intense speed, and then a figure lumbered out.

“Is the one you dropped the golden ax?”

Someone gasped. Ragi, Mary, 7753, and probably also Touta, everyone there was looking in the same direction with frozen expressions.

It was a magical girl like a goddess. Her hair had been sliced off and twisted up, her clothes were tattered as rags, and her body was so battered all over and smeared in blood, you could hardly believe she was still alive.

Stuck in her collarbone was something like the blade of the buzz saws used in construction, and thrust deeply into her opposite shoulder was a sword he’d never seen before, and an ax was impaling her chest, pulsing to a beat. And then there was the sword sticking out of the buzz-saw wound. When he saw the handle of that sword, Touta’s heart thudded. He knew that sword. It was the rapier Miss Marguerite had been using.

If the goddess had come here, it basically meant that. Touta’s heart pounded even harder in his chest. Though the goddess was so badly wounded that it was a miracle she was on her feet and walking, on her face was a breezy smile. Coldness and heat overflowed from inside Touta at the same time, and he clenched fists that threatened to shake as he glared at the goddess. She didn’t look at him at all, stepping forward with a sliding gait, footsteps nonetheless firm as she approached.

Ragi started chanting something, and, a second or two later, Yol followed.

“Or is it the silver ax?”

With a thud, the goddess took a big step forward.

  Pastel Mary

The goddess took a big step forward, and at about the same time, the sheep all dashed out. Going in the opposite direction from the sheep that had run out of the forest, they gathered around the goddess. They moved as sharply as a razor, and the sound of their hoofs was as powerful as heavy machinery. These were the elite of the elite sheep Pastel Mary had created, after all. They were at a high standard in all areas, with the intellect to understand human language, the kindness to consider others, high physical capabilities, bravery that ran counter to the image of a sheep, sensitivity like a psychic’s, fluffy wool like cotton candy—and that was why they acted immediately to kill the enemy on sight.

And were flung away in all directions.

The opponent no longer had her ax. The weapons that she did have on her person were stabbed into her, so she couldn’t wield them. In other words, her only means of attack was her bare hands, but she knocked away the sheep so violently, it was like she was blowing them away with explosives. One, two were destroyed like paper being ripped, and though the other sheep were not discouraged and surged in, the future that awaited them did not change.

It was no use with just sheep. Even if she was so heavily wounded and weakened she looked like she would fall, the enemy was still a magical girl, and a monstrously strong one. To go against her, you had to throw a magical girl at her.

Pastel Mary was a weakling with basically no fighting experience, and even if she did actually fight, she definitely wouldn’t be any good. But she was still a magical girl. If it were Dreamy Chelsea, even if she’d been as weak as Pastel Mary, she’d still have acted before her head could even think. And then, after she’d done it, she would have thrown out her chest in pride. She’d be saying, If you don’t take action here, then you’re no magical girl.

Pastel Mary moved half a beat after her sheep. It wasn’t that she was slow out of fear or hesitation—she was late because a moment before, she’d been looking at her sketch pad, drawing with pastels.

Before her, sheep exploded one after another, turning to bright-red wreckage to be blasted away, and with a literal rain of blood falling around her, she didn’t stop, in fact she sped up, and right before she would have hit the goddess with a body blow from the shoulder, she stumbled. It was past the stage where she could stop herself. She lost her balance and pitched forward as if sliding headfirst.

The more she hurried, the more likely she was to fall. She knew that unbearably well, but still she cursed that tendency for coming out at a time like this. She started to despair, but then she thought, No and clenched her teeth. Remembering Shepherdspie and Chelsea, she thought firmly to herself that she was never giving up and shoved her arms forward.

A terrible gust of wind broke off trees and made Pastel Mary’s hat go flying. By that sudden fall, she had just barely evaded the enemy’s fist, and before she could realize that, the goddess’s waist was right in front of her.

  Ragi Zwe Nento

Once Ragi saw what had become of Francisca Francesca, anger roiled up within him all at once. His rage was intense enough for every single one of his beard hairs to rise.

The fools had meant to seal the Sage inside this. This form, created only to cause harm, probably fit their design concept. The researchers had gone out of control, thinking that so long as she was strong, so long as she won, they didn’t care about anything else, which had brought them to this. They lacked even a hair of respect for their great and divine precursor.

Ragi was angry enough for it to make his triangle hat float up, but he didn’t let that interrupt his planning. Ragi was used to his own anger. Ever since he’d been shunted into the Magical Girl Management Department, it was rare for him not to be angry.

There was nothing for it but to go back to the drawing board. The one they were trying to avoid was right in front of them, so it would take too long to open a gate to escape. They would destroy the homunculus now. This would be more difficult than making a gate, but also more advantageous. They should expend the power they’d gathered on that.

While glaring at the sheep throwing themselves at the goddess and being slaughtered for it, Ragi swung his staff and cast a spell. It was a primitive and barbaric one, far from what a mage should use, but he had no time for self-deprecation or mockery. Ragi chanted along, and Yol began casting a spell as well. She’d figured out what he was doing, and, knowing she didn’t have enough power herself, she was committing to support. The arts of the fine young lady were not to be underestimated—this was rather admirable, far beyond the spawn of your average aristocrat.

While he was impressed by how Yol took action, Ragi’s anger never cooled. Anger was his fuel. If he could continue to put it on the fire, he would be able to keep going until he was killed, at least.

Many sheep had been crushed, but their sacrifice had not been in vain, as now Pastel Mary was clinging to Francesca. She kept a firm hold of her, both arms around her waist. Mary looked desperate, determined to never let go. Her sheep leaped in one after another, trying to knock the enemy over with their weight, but Francesca resisted the pressure and didn’t even wobble. Despite being so badly injured that it seemed she would fall over from a finger’s push, her legs were still firm.

But she had stopped walking. She stood firmly on both legs, bracing herself to keep from falling.

Francesca punched away one sheep, then another. A rain of blood poured down, and Francesca gradually started moving. She laid a hand on Pastel Mary’s arm and leaned into it, but that still wasn’t enough; she was being overwhelmed.

There would normally be no opportunity for a mage to intervene in a magical-girl fight. Thorough preliminary preparations were needed to compensate for how much faster magical girls were, and without that, you’d fail to keep up, and then the fight would be over. But if they were in a deadlock while shoving each other, that was something else.

A red glow covered Pastel Mary and the sheep. In this situation, support was better than direct attacks. If he shot a fireball into the struggle, the chances of friendly fire were high, and even if he did hit the incarnation base, he had no idea how much damage that would do.

It was just a slight assistance, but Pastel Mary clenched her teeth like this was her moment. She would have to scrounge up all the strength that she didn’t normally use.

The current plan was a barbaric and violent one. They were abandoning the humane method of prioritizing the children and having them escape through the gate, instead putting together all their strength to crush Francesca.

For a moment, their forces were equal, but Francesca quickly pushed back, shoving aside a sheep to swing up her fist. Immediately, 7753 leaped on her. She clung to the goddess’s arm and wouldn’t let her swing up.

Ragi moved his drying tongue like a little rat to layer on further spells.

  Navi Ru

It had all started with Sataborn’s death in an accident.

If you knew Navi and the Lab, you might suspect murder, but Navi knew better than anyone that his death had definitely been an accident.

Had he screwed up procedures due to unnoticed aging, or had he just handled things dangerously out of habit since he was used to it, like “I always do this”? Not being Sataborn, Navi didn’t know what had caused it. But it was a fact he’d died in an accident, and the proof of that was the old mage lying there as if he were sleeping.

Navi wasn’t happy about this at all. He’d let the creator die before the item requested—the base for the incarnation—was done, even though it was close to completion. Since Navi was supposed to be handling odd jobs as well as keeping watch on the old man, his responsibility would be called into question.

But Navi had not fulfilled his duty. In other words, he had not reported the incident immediately. Not for hopeless reasons—he wasn’t putting it off to avoid having his responsibility questioned.

This accident was too great a setback for the Lab. Blame would fall directly on Navi’s shoulders, and he would be made to take responsibility for it by leaving his post. All his accumulated efforts for the sake of his personal goal would go up in smoke, and he wouldn’t even be given the option of starting over from square one.

It was a situation worthy of despair, but Navi had taken a pause there. While this situation was all setbacks, he wondered if, with just a bit of effort, it could actually work out well for him.

He was just getting things done by adding a sudden flash of insight and an unexpected situation to what he’d been planning already. It was nothing more than that.

As Sataborn’s odd-jobs man, Navi had been the only one entrusted with organizing things in storage on the island. He also knew that Sataborn illegally possessed a legacy from the First Mage. He’d been wondering if he couldn’t steal it somehow, but Sataborn was an expert among experts, and the island defense mechanism Sataborn had set up would prevent any sneaky theft. But now that the master had passed away, so long as you were willing to take the time and effort, there were two ways to go about it.

One idea was to go through the formal inheritance procedures and take the relic off the island. But if Navi showed someone the gear and they realized what it was, he would lose everything, so he was not going to use this method.

The second idea was this: The item was currently perceived as a broken gear, but if he could repair it to make it a gear, that would get around the perception code. If he could pull this off, it would be perfect. If Navi could take Sataborn’s gear off the island, then his failure would be written off—in fact, it would be considered an accomplishment.

Navi also knew better where the will was than Sataborn himself. Navi took it off the shelf and quickly checked over the contents—but of course nothing written in it was to Navi’s benefit. Naturally, an odd-jobs-man-slash-monitor was never going to get any leftovers. And even if it was inconvenient to him, magic had been cast on it so that it could not be easily rewritten. But Navi also knew what kind of magic that was.

It couldn’t be erased or changed. But you could add things. Navi pasted on a transparent, ultrathin magic film with some additional items written on it. Of course the binding magic of the will wouldn’t be applied to those additional items, but it just had to trick the readers.

Navi inserted himself and Yol among the heirs and made it a requirement that they be accompanied by magical girls, with a max of two, in order to lure out Maiya and Rareko. Rareko was necessary to repair the gear on the island. There were only two magical girls in Yol’s house, so inevitably Rareko would come to the island. Maiya would also come. She had been the biggest obstruction to currying favor with Yol. If he made use of the island security installation, Francesca, then he might be able to get Maiya out of his way. With Maiya gone, he could manage a sheltered aristocratic girl somehow. And if he could slip into that house, he’d be one step—no, three whole steps closer to his goal.

That would pacify the anger at the Lab and also bring major benefits to himself. The plan would literally be turning bad fortune to good.

The plan had been going well for a while. Francesca, operating as a security device out of view of the host and guests, had been more useful than expected.

He’d taken one of the ten Francescas who’d been made to patrol the island as an operation test and changed everything about her behavioral pattern. Navi had shifted her into X mode, which shouldn’t have happened in the first place. Since Navi would also be walking around on the island, he had prepared a code to keep himself from being attacked by Francesca.

Though she was supposed to be incomplete, between her skill in destroying the gate to shut in all intruders and her strength in finishing off Maiya, Navi had no complaints. If he made use of the installed feature that kept her from attacking a target in a confined space, then he could even secure the safety of those he wanted to survive. Destruction and safeguarding would normally not overlap like that, but they both fit perfectly with Navi’s goal.

But he still had no idea what had caused the magical girls’ powers to be drained away. It was creepy. He couldn’t grasp what had happened. And on top of that, Dreamy Chelsea had brought down part of the main building, destroying the emergency gate—the one only Sataborn and the Lab had known about. This was an unexpected setback.

Navi had never imagined that Shepherdspie, the picture of an ordinary man, averse to conflict and constantly bowing his head, would hire a serious mercenary magical girl.

He’d have had to throw down quite a lot of money to pay for a violence specialist with those combat capabilities. There was no way he would have arranged for such personnel purely for odd jobs and waiting on people—in other words, Shepherdspie had suspected something. Or even if it wasn’t quite suspicion, he might have had a seed of doubt. It was fortunate to Navi that he had been killed early on by Francesca.

Despite getting hit by two accidents—the power consumption and weakening and the destruction of the spare gate for fleeing when the time came—Navi had somehow pulled things off. Now that he’d accomplished Maiya’s murder, the first of his personal goals, there was no longer anyone to attack him for approaching Yol. Then Shepherdspie, who was bound to become a problem, had died. As for Agri’s death, it didn’t matter if she was around or not, but, well, it was best for her not to be. Navi was continuing to put Ragi in his debt and protecting him, since he planned to use the man as a vehicle for advancement, and he was protecting Mana, since it would be a hassle if she died, while he had Rareko repair the gear in the confusion. Now he just had to have Clarissa finish off Francesca, and Navi Ru would acquire what he should and eliminate what would be bad to leave behind, shifting his post-event plans into execution—or that was what was supposed to happen.

Things were clearly not going as Navi wanted. The noise from the main building indicated that the fight was still not over. Clarissa had been formally trained, and she had what he’d call enough history in real combat. She knew all about Francesca’s functionality, and if you added the tool he’d gotten from the warehouse, unforeseen accidents should not ever happen. But for some reason the fight had not quieted down—in fact, it seemed to be getting fiercer.

Had Ren-Ren and the other magical girls interfered somehow? Maybe they hadn’t obstructed directly, but instead Clarissa had seen them in trouble and gone to save them and then gotten hurt herself. He didn’t want to think about such a situation, but it was possible. She was hard and a pro, but she was still a young girl. He couldn’t say for sure that she would never be moved by emotion, but, considering Clarissa’s personality, it didn’t seem likely.

Had Francesca gone rogue in some way they couldn’t predict—had something happened that even the creator, Sataborn, hadn’t imagined? But Francesca had been managed under so many levels of heavy security, it was a little hard to imagine her going out of control.

Or was there something Sataborn hadn’t put in the documentation—did she have some hidden ability? Think about it, and either was possible. This was, of all things, a plan to create a base for an incarnation, ordered by the Lab. This wasn’t just about the Osk Faction. It was no overstatement to say the whole future of the Magical Kingdom hung on such a major project, and you couldn’t pull any mischief here by taking out a screw or two.

But Sataborn would do things that you thought impossible. No matter how many times Navi tried to erase the thought from his head, thinking Impossible, impossible, he couldn’t rid himself of the bad thoughts.

Shit…

He shouldn’t be speculating right now about what he should have done. Right now, at least, saying, “I should have done this, I should have done that” was just lamenting and regrets, it wasn’t looking to the future. At first, it might sound productive to reflect on his mistakes in order to make them a lesson for the future, but that was an excuse. That was nothing more than a manifestation of emotional upset. While time was short, there were other things he should do.

He would leave Clarissa’s safety aside for now. If she was safe, then he was just hurting himself worrying about her, and if she wasn’t safe, then there was no point. Though he understood logically that he should immediately go with this course of action, it wound up taking a little time to actually get going.

He was going to eliminate all traces of the gate that had been destroyed and erase the input history on the warehouse.

When he was about to go from the rocky area to the forest, Navi’s right eyebrow spasmed. The weight on the carpet he’d sent up into the sky had been reduced. He couldn’t tell now exactly when it had been reduced, but at the very least, that decrease hadn’t happened before Clarissa had gone off.

Not much could cause such a thing to happen accidentally. It was more likely someone had pulled mischief on him.

It hadn’t been Clarissa. Aside from her, the only person who knew of his hiding place was Rareko, but the odds that she had survived were extremely slim, and, on top of that, she had no method of reaching the sky.

The face that came to mind as having the motivation, while also seeming like she could get the information, was Nephilia’s. If she thought she could use him for negotiation, then he just had to correct her misunderstanding. He would smash her arrogance for thinking she could be the one to use him, using the law and contracts as her tools. That was the area where Navi was strongest. He was a hundred, a thousand times better at that than at reflecting, regretting, worrying, and grinding his teeth and feeling frustrated.

“Is something wrong?” Mana asked him.

He put on a smile and turned back to her. Mana’s eyes narrowed as she gave Navi a long look, not trying to hide her suspicion. Normally, Navi would be thinking, Hey, Miss Inspection Department, the more you suspect someone, the nicer you should be, while mentally sticking out his tongue, but he had too much on his mind for that now.

“Oh well. It sounds like someone’s on a rampage at the main building.”

Without even a blink, eyes sticking to him as if it would be a sin to look away, she gave a little nod. Navi firmly restrained the urge to click his tongue. There was a plethora of things he wanted to get done, but Mana’s eyes were just in the way.

  Mana

With her eyes locked on Navi, Mana gave him just the slightest nod.

She could hear the sounds of an intense battle from the main building. In the past, Mana would have just rushed over. That was because her standard for judgment had been Hana Gekokujou. Hana could never stand by and watch, so then Mana would also rush over, even if that meant ignoring the question of what she could do anyway.

Now, Mana was different. Hana Gekokujou wouldn’t stand by and watch, but Hana and Mana were completely different people, and Mana knew well there was no point in her acting just like Hana.

Mana wanted to know if 7753, Tepsekemei, Miss Marguerite, and all the other magical girls and mages were safe, but what she should be doing right now was not giving in to her emotions and dashing off.

It wasn’t that Hana Gekokujou had disappeared from her heart. She was always inside Mana. She was resting her hand on Mana’s shoulder right now, telling her not to act recklessly.

“Agh, what in the hell are they doing?” Navi Ru shook his head in aggravation. Mana circled into his blind spot, behind his back, and, never letting her eyes move off him, she pulled out a grayfruit and bit into it. She chewed and continued to keep an eye on him.

Her doubts about this man were deepening even further. She’d had the sense something was off in the will, plus he’d been acting unnatural since they’d gotten separated from 7753 and Tepsekemei, seeming weirdly unfazed by everything—everything was suspicious. But she sensed in that unfazed air she got glimpses of from his attitude that he wasn’t even bothered by her suspicion. She felt like it was less like “Who cares if someone like Mana suspects me?” and more like his inner workings didn’t see it as an issue that he might be suspected and investigated.

Most likely, either he could shut it down through political means or her suspicions wouldn’t lead anywhere because he hadn’t left any evidence at all. But that was just what Navi thought, and Mana wouldn’t know if he was right until she actually tried. If 7753 helped out, she would be able to use her goggles to investigate. If something was going on politically, then Mana could borrow her father’s power, and if she went through her father, then she had connections higher up. There was little she hated more than being accused of nepotism, but even more than that, she would hate to use that as a reason to give in.

Mana glared at Navi’s back.