Layer after layer of glowing wards formed around them, defensive barriers stacked thick enough to repel a god’s wrath. Cordelia tried to protest, but Lilith’s expression silenced her.
The next moment, Koharu’s cheerful voice rang out behind them. There was a sing-song quality to it, but something about it was terrifying.
“Type-Zero Electromagnetic Control: Railgun.”
There was no sound at first. Just a sharp shimmer in the air, as if space itself flinched. Then—
Boom.
The world convulsed.
The three iron spheres fired at a velocity that mocked physics, tearing through the air with a sonic crack that split the battlefield. Trees vaporized in their wake. Shockwaves radiated outward, flattening brush and hurling debris in every direction.
Each shot found its mark.
Chest. Gut. Skull.
The three Ogre Kings didn’t even register the attack. No roar, no defense, just the sudden, grotesque detonation of flesh and bone as their bodies burst apart, fragments scattering like cursed confetti across the scorched earth.
Lilith released a long, slow breath as she lowered the barrier.
Cordelia, wide-eyed, slowly pushed herself up from the dirt. She pointed shakily toward the battlefield, where Koharu, still crackling with residual lightning, was already charging headfirst into the next cluster of ogres.
“She’s not stopping,” Cordelia whispered, dread and awe in her voice. “She’s going again.”
“I get what you’re thinking,” Lilith said quietly, eyes locked on the storm Koharu was conjuring across the battlefield.
Cordelia stood beside her, expression a mix of awe and sheer confusion. “Are we seriously talking about Koharu right now? Because I swear that doesn’t look like her anymore.”
“I know what it looks like,” Lilith repeated, tone calm but clipped. “And I’m telling you, I understand.”
Cordelia slowly shook her head. “If she keeps going like this, she might be stronger than either of us.”
“Might be?” Lilith shot her a glance. “She is stronger than me. At least under the current conditions.”
Cordelia frowned, still trying to make sense of what she’d seen. “And what the hell were those metal balls? I’ve never seen anything move that fast. It didn’t even look like magic.”
“I have,” Lilith said softly. “A long time ago. Ryuto used something similar once. He called it a railgun.”
“A railgun?” Cordelia echoed, like the word tasted foreign in her mouth.
Lilith nodded. “He said it’s a form of hyper-physical magic. It channels lightning to its absolute limit, both in power and in precision. With the right control, you can launch a physical object at impossible speeds. That’s what she did.”
“Hyper-physical… magic?” Cordelia said the words slowly, clearly struggling to understand. “That’s a thing?”
She couldn’t be blamed for not getting it. The concept of converting electromagnetism into kinetic weaponry, grounded in modern physics, was far beyond what her world considered magic. It was natural science masquerading as sorcery.
“It’s based on something Ryuto called the power of science,” Lilith added. “A type of knowledge-based magic no one here should even be able to perform.”
Cordelia stared at her. “And yet, there she is.”
In front of them, Koharu unleashed another barrage. Another wall of lightning erupted outward, consuming the field in a blinding blue-white dome. The scale of it was absurd, easily over a hundred meters, discharging with the force of a natural disaster.
“She’s doing it again,” Cordelia muttered, shielding her eyes. “That kind of area-of-effect spell… Even if we assumed she’s a top-tier A-rank Mage, she shouldn’t be able to sustain that kind of power output. Not for this long.”
“She’s not using mana,” Lilith said, voice barely audible above the fading thunder.
Cordelia blinked. “What?”
Lilith’s gaze didn’t waver. “She’s not spending her own mana. That’s why she hasn’t burned out yet.”
“She’s not depleting it?” Cordelia echoed, her voice teetering between disbelief and confusion. “But she’s casting massive-scale spells. Like, top-tier magic, repeatedly.”
Lilith nodded, calm and certain. “That’s why it doesn’t make sense to you. You’re not a Mage. But I can feel it. Every magician worth their salt can. The spirit energy in the air? It’s vanishing. Rapidly.”
“You mean… It’s being consumed?” Cordelia asked, her brow furrowing.
“Exactly,” Lilith said. “She’s not using her own mana; she’s drawing it externally. Think of it like an ambient fuel line. In simple terms, she’s tapped into something much larger than herself.”
Cordelia exhaled. “So like, external magic supply?”
“That’s a crude way to put it,” Lilith said with a wry smile, “but yes. In the east, they believe in the ‘Myriad Gods,’ a pantheon of gods that dwell in all things. Trees, stones, rivers, even cities. Gods are everywhere and nowhere. They exist in every breath of nature, hidden in plain sight.”
Cordelia scratched her head, expression blank. “Okay, uh, you lost me at ‘pantheon.’ Magic, I get. Philosophy? Not my thing.”
Lilith gave a long-suffering sigh, but her smile lingered. “Of course. Brains and brawn rarely coexist. Anyway, the gist is that what Koharu calls divine descent isn’t just a dramatic catchphrase. She literally becomes a vessel for those forces. She embodies the will of nature, of the gods. That’s why she’s called a shrine maiden. That’s what a medium really is.”
Cordelia fell silent for a moment, absorbing it all. “So she’s not casting spells. She’s channeling a god.”
Lilith nodded. “Exactly. But that kind of power has a price.”
She turned, watching the distant flashes of lightning flare once more as Koharu launched another attack. “The way she’s fighting now is reckless. Unsustainable. Unless she has divine-grade recovery rituals prepared or constant elixirs on hand, her body won’t survive this. Her muscle tissue, her brain, maybe even her internal organs are all under strain. Every burst shortens her life.”
Cordelia’s face hardened. “That’s… not a small thing to say.”
“She’s probably been raised with sacred tonics,” Lilith murmured, “but those aren’t cheap. And judging from her situation now, she can’t afford them. She’s not just out of mana. She’s burning away her lifespan.”
There was a beat of silence between them.
Then Cordelia asked, her voice quiet but sharp, “So what are we supposed to do?”
Lilith’s response was immediate, unwavering. “Obviously, Ryuto will find a way.”
At that, Cordelia’s expression shifted, brows knitting, jaw tightening. A vein throbbed faintly at her temple as her voice dropped into something low and bitter.
“Of course. Your Ryuto.”
The way she said it—possessive, territorial—was enough to leave a mark.
Lilith smirked at the sharp edge in Cordelia’s voice, her expression smug and unshaken. “You should understand something,” she said, voice cold and laced with triumph. “What Ryuto and I share, no sword, not even your holy one, can cut through.”
Cordelia raised a hand, palm out, stopping her with calm finality. “I’m not here to argue. Not now. Not in the middle of this.”