FRAGMENT Blade Runner Month of the Kraken, Day 12, 1596 CE “Captain Zenol.” The man on the Nightmare warhorse at the front on the dark night road, wearing a black helmet and armor, directed his attention to the voice while still looking ahead. “We are soon to reach the village at the border of the Ohm Kingdom.” “I see,” the man said. “…Excuse me, Captain Zenol.” “What is it, Myneus?” The therian woman in black armor spoke hesitantly. “I realize it is just a demi-human troop, but wouldn’t you say this big an army to attack one village is a bit excessive? I believe those of us with the Order of the Karmic Sword should be enough…” The knights in black armor on black warhorses were joined by a flag-bearing group: a plain-armor army of lizardmen, the descendants of dragons. “We are mobilizing without His Majesty’s permission. We cannot fail.” “Exactly, Myneus.” A large male ogre half a step behind Zenol nodded. “And you know how easy it is to cut off a lizard’s tail.” “Refrain from such remarks, Taras. They, too, are Captain Zenol’s subordinates now.” “Heh. Don’t act high and mighty when you just called them demi-humans. You realize us ogres and therians are demi-humans from the point of view of mortal elves and humans, right?” “Enough banter,” Zenol said sharply. “Let’s go over the plan.” Whisper magic let Zenol’s voice reach the rest of the Order behind him. “Our objective is to eliminate the child of prophecy in the village, but we do not know what this person looks like. For one thing, the child description is per Horodict’s standards. It might not be an actual child. According to an agent we sent to the Cathedral, the child of prophecy will lead the Immortal Kingdom to doom. And although even Meldia’s whims could never defeat His Majesty, we must uproot anything that stands in the way of his—no, our—wish to establish the Eonian Kingdom.” Zenol spoke of nothing but loyalty and determination. “Myneus’s and Bawkins’s troops will set fire to the buildings to bring the villagers out into the open, then monitor the perimeter and slay anyone who tries to flee. Hienno’s and Taras’s troops will join the main force and spread out in the village. Do not let a single person escape.” Voices of confirmation overlapped. “Start the operation! Everyone follow me!” The black horses sped up at Zenol’s command. Magic fire arrows whizzed through the air past them. “Huh? Who are you?! Stop! Stop or—” The village watchman’s head went flying. Zenol had unsheathed and swung his sword the moment he passed the man on horseback. The bloodbath began. Screams, shrieks, and yells filled the small village. The proud Order of the Karmic Sword and the army of lizardmen took up arms so their king could establish a place for all immortals—the Eonian Kingdom. They murdered the powerless mortals in the process. No pride or honor in the act; it was all for their king’s dominance. A dirty job to make sure the immortals held power over the world, even if their own king would abhor it. Kill, murder, slaughter. Who could say how many people died in this tiny village? Sons protecting their parents, mothers pleading for their children to be spared, children in hiding; they were all pulled out into the open and killed. There was no excusing it—this was a massacre. Fire spread and engulfed the whole village, the blinding red flames rising so high as if to burn the night sky. At the back of this hellscape, on a small hill, Zenol witnessed something unbelievable. “What…?” The lizardmen soldiers led by Taras, the large ogre, had been cut down. Yet that alone was not so shocking. What took Zenol by surprise were the two lizardmen with thin iron stakes buried in their joints and necks; one was pinned to the ground, while the other was pinned to a house’s wall. Immobilizing the joints or crushing the windpipe to prevent spellcasting was an effective, if temporary, way to disable an immortal in combat. A rational strategy. “Someone this familiar with immortals in such a remote village,” Zenol mused. “Could it be…the child of prophecy?” This was someone skilled enough to fight and neutralize the Order of the Karmic Sword’s elite knights. “You wait here, Taras,” said Zenol. “I shall—” The moment he approached the lizardmen’s corpses to take the stakes, he swung his sword high above. The clash echoed throughout the burning mountain village. Zenol fell off his black horse, which now had a metal stake through the top of its head. Someone had thrown the stake in secret from the rooftops. When Zenol looked in that direction, he saw a blond, middle-aged man. “Is it you who felled my troops?” Zenol asked the man. “Yes.” Metal stakes hung from the man’s belt, and he held a red sword in his hand, its blade emanating mana. It does not feel powerful enough to destroy me like the legendary Ixasorde can… I have Taras here as proof, thought Zenol. That said, better safe than sorry. The blond man’s impenetrable bearing and the pressure from the sharp point of his weapon left no doubt that he was a grizzled fighter. “I am one of Demon Lord Veltol’s Six Dark Peers: Zenol, Duke of the Karmic Sword.” “I’m Grad Ryal. What are the Six Dark Peers doing in such a small village…? No, that doesn’t matter. The blow to the darklings will be huge once I take my revenge for all the villagers.” “Something tells me you are no ordinary villager.” “I was once head of the Ohm knights order.” “No wonder… I shan’t hold back against you. Come, Grad.” “Have at thee.” Zenol unsheathed the sword from his hip and took a stance. Both veterans, they gauged the distance between each other. Zenol and Grad took a step forward in sync and swung their swords as they rushed past each other. The fleeting sound of swords slashing the air. “Grad Ryal… You are strong.” The wound on Zenol’s neck, between his helmet and armor, closed up before he wiped the blood away with his finger. Grad’s blade had to be a Holy Sword with immortal-slaying powers, although its output was weak. Zenol’s small wound brought him dull pain. Meanwhile, blood spurted out of Grad’s head. “Guh…!” He collapsed in a pool of his own blood. “Cur…ses…” The red sword fell from his hand and pierced the ground in front of the door to a house. Creak. The door then opened. “Dad…?” A delicate girl with golden hair and blue eyes peered out from the other side. “Mili…na… Stay…away…” Grad lost his strength and collapsed into the sea of his own blood, his eyes still set on the girl. Grad’s daughter, I take it? Zenol held his sword up, judging it to be merciful to allow her to die by her father’s side. Grad must have told her to stay in hiding. She would not stop trembling, her face frozen in fear. Everyone had to be killed, even the most innocent of girls. “How dare you…” Milina grasped the hilt of her father’s sword. “How dare you do that to my father…!” She pointed its end at Zenol with a shaky grip. Her arms were slim and her fingers neat; she had never held a sword in her life, much less experienced a fight. Her arms and legs shook with fear and anger at her father’s murder. The sword’s weight was too much for her; it quickly sank back into the ground. “There is no salvation for you,” said Zenol. “Do not resist and you will feel no pai—” Then chills ran down the Duke of the Karmic Sword’s spine. He stepped back as he sensed something the immortal had rarely felt throughout his long years of war—death. What happened…? What did she do to me…? Zenol’s brain caught up with his reaction after he had taken his distance. Milina had swung the sword at a speed even Zenol could barely keep up with. She blew away his helmet and cut the end of his mouth. The helmet crashed into the ground with a loud clang, and the hot air hit his exposed half-therian face. Zenol saw the girl embody a starkly different aura from moments prior. She breathed heavily while glaring at him. Sharp pain stung the end of his mouth, and the metallic taste of blood spread across his tongue. My wound is not healing…? The wound Grad inflicted on him had closed instantly, yet the one from Milina remained open. He observed the sword and noticed more powerful mana than it had in Grad’s hands. Crimson light radiated from the blade. It must be the kind of Holy Sword whose power depends on its user. Grad was not able to use its full power, but it is far stronger in this girl’s hands. Yet the Holy Sword did not choose her… Zenol knew about this inborn power. This was a special ability called Heavenly Sword’s Gift, which the Paladin Althia possessed. A talent that allowed the user to freely wield anything that could be considered a sword to its full potential. A mere novice could instantly master the technical prowess of an experienced swordfighter. Why does this girl have such a gift?! Milina hadn’t realized her own talent before, either. Her Heavenly Sword’s Gift bloomed in the moment of impending doom. “I’ll kill you…,” she growled. Zenol was certain at the sight of her burning, piercing, bloodthirsty glare. “I’ll kill you!” “She’s…” The girl before his eyes… “…the child of prophecy!” The Duke of the Karmic Sword summoned his true weapon—the one fused with his soul. “Ooze in the shadowy prison: Zenol!” Zenol grasped the hilt growing out of his chest and pulled it out with a splash of shadows. He lifted Zenol the black greatsword and took a step toward Milina. She dragged the sword, too heavy for her to even lift, in an attempt to swing it again. The next moment, the red blade took over Zenol’s field of view. He immediately blocked with the black sword, and a heavy metal clash rang out. “Guh…!” Zenol was pushed backward. Milina was not even swinging at random. She lacked strength in her core, and her upper body wavered. The sword was swinging her around. She had no strength and no fundamentals. Yet she could fight toe-to-toe with Zenol. Despite the great difference in poise and everything else, it reminded him of a certain individual. In the distant past, back when he was still mortal, his swordsmanship mentor had told him, “Mmm, see, from my point of view, people at your level don’t have talent. You gotta control the sword, but I’m special. The sword just keeps up with me.” Zenol had been too green to understand what she meant back then, but now he knew. She meant people like this girl. If the girl lives, she will get in the way of His Majesty…of the founding of the Eonian Kingdom. I must kill her here and now! Zenol gripped his greatsword tightly. It did not take long for the match to be settled. After a few blows, the victory went to Zenol. No matter the talent, in the end, she was merely an inexperienced little girl. Her body must have been weak from birth, too. It reached its limits, and she dropped the sword first. “…I am sorry.” After a short apology, Zenol pierced Milina’s heart. He felt no shame about going all out against a little girl. She was that strong. It was only thanks to her poor health and lack of experience that he was able to win. Had she been in perfect health and had one year of experience, it would not have been this close. Zenol was certain he did the right thing. He pulled the sword out. “Ah…” Milina watched the blood dripping from her chest as she collapsed next to her father. “I’m glad I could eliminate the child of prophecy and her family here… They would have been His Majesty’s biggest enemies if left alive.” Zenol traced the wound on his lips as he spoke. Sharp pain lingered. The battle was over and the bleeding had stopped, but his wound hadn’t yet healed. “…” He glanced at the red sword next to the girl. Perhaps it was epic-level or heroic-level. It was not powerful, but it could still slay immortals. Retrieving immortal-slaying weapons was a duty in the Immortal Kingdom, yet Zenol did not pick it up. He showed respect for Milina and Grad. Let the sword serve as a gravestone. Zenol turned his back and left. In the middle of the blood, darkness, and flames—the instant before Milina took her last breath—a tear spilled from one of her empty eyes, and she muttered: “Be safe…Brother…Gram…” Sparks crackled under the night. Month of the Gryphon, Day 2, 2099 FE, 18:00 “Haah… Haah… Haah…!” Zenol sat up in the bed in a cheap inn in Outer Shinjuku, trying to control his breathing. He was not wearing his magi-gear. The memories of his past that tormented him in his sleep were always so vivid; he could still feel the friction of his blade on flesh and the heat of the fire on his skin. Zenol knew that story ended more than five hundred years ago. Legend had it that Zenol’s Order of the Karmic Sword ravaged the Hero Gram’s hometown. Gram later took Paladin Althia as his mentor, was picked for the Ohm Kingdom Knights Order’s foreign campaign, and went on a journey to defeat the Demon Lord. However, not even the Hero Gram knew the memory Zenol had just seen. “Fuck… How long do I have to endure this…? I never wanted this power…” Zenol spat curses before opening the plastic bottle on his bedside table and gulping down its contents. “Swordman.” A voice came through encrypted aether comms into his head. He knew it all too well. “Ange, eh?” “Affirmative. How is your quest to take down the Priestess going?” “I found her, but she ran away. I’m taking a breather now.” “I see.” “How about you? How’s Shibuya?” “Nothing special, but…” “But?” “Personally, I would like to reunite with you soon.” “Huh?” “I think that would be most efficient for the mission.” “Oh yeah…” Zenol’s shoulders slumped in disappointment. “So why’d you call?” “Great Sister— Excuse me. Zero sent a prophecy. I called to pass it on.” “So what is it? Stop beating around the bush!” “There is a disturbance in the causality interference measurement. Beware of a strong variable.” “That’s all?” “Affirmative.” “Why’s it always sound like some cheap fortune-telling? Can’t she do better?” “She only has one of the Eyes of the Horodict. The Priestess has the other. Just a single eye’s processing power isn’t enough to get more detailed results. Besides, don’t grumble to me. I can’t do anything about it.” “Yeah, I know… I’m sorry. By the way, about Emilia’s—” “Swordman. That is against the rules, even if this is an encrypted comm.” “Gah, what a drag! Even mentioning her is such a pain with all the names she’s got. Collector, Emilia, whatever! Okay, codename Priestess—where’s she gonna show up next? Imma catch that nut next time I see her, even if I gotta kill ’er.” Ange sighed. “Priestess’s next forecasted destination is…” Month of the Gryphon, Day 2, 2099 FE, 18:00 Main system rebooting. A system message popped up as Matoi rebooted. “Ah… Uh…” The white-in effect in her visual device was like being blinded by a camera flash, and the static in her audio device sounded like a sandstorm. Both were clearing up little by little. She could see a ceiling. Low and dirty. A system scan result flashed across her visual field. Her visual sensors were still failing. She analyzed her current situation. She had found a woman with a high causality interference measurement and an immortal man calling himself the Demon Lord Veltol. Matoi had attacked, but the Black Dragon Duchess Sihlwald had interrupted, and Matoi had been defeated. Her torso was damaged, but not too badly. It would heal quickly. Yeah, this is nothing. Matoi rubbed the wound on her abdomen. The clothes she’d borrowed were torn and burned with traces of black mana. Veltol’s spell. I analyzed it when I first encountered him, and its piercing and explosive power was huge… A direct blow at that distance and time should have wrecked me… He cut down its power… But why…? The effects of the shutdown and reboot prevented her quantum core’s central processing unit—her idea circuit—from performing more than one task at a single time. Matoi snapped out of the hyperfocus and sat up. “Where am I…?” She was lying on an old couch. A thin, fluffy blanket was draped over her. The room was small. Junk was scattered all over the place. Even though this location was completely foreign to Matoi, her nervous system somehow remained calm. Is this…? “Hey, you’re awake.” “…?!” Her malfunctioning sensors had made her negligent; she twitched in response to the voice. “Wh-who are you…?” Matoi asked, looking to see who had spoken. It was the half-therian woman, Emi. She was wearing a lab coat and hat just like before, and the soft aether neon lights coming into the dark room from the window cast deep shadows on her face. “Right, we never introduced ourselves. I’m Emi Chabatake. Detective.” “…I’m Matoi, a Hero from the Guild.” “You’re quite cute for a Hero.” “Affirmative. Analysis tells me I am the cutest.” Matoi reflexively did her sideways V-sign pose. Emi giggled. “You should’ve seen what happened after you got knocked out. You did enough damage as it is, but then my assistant used that huge spell. Sirens went off, the City Guard came, it was pandemonium. If we were to make our great escape into a novel, I would say it’d take about twenty pages of a standard paperback format.” Matoi wasn’t sure if that was a lot of pages. “M-more importantly, why am I here unrestrained? I attacked your group.” “Back there, instead of attacking my assistant, you went after his huge spell. I think you could say he pulled something of a villain move, and yet you were more worried about the damage he’d cause to the surroundings, right?” “I…” “You were trying to kill or capture me and my assistant, and someone acting on mechanical calculations would not do something like that. So I concluded you were more rational than I initially thought, and we could talk things out. The fact that I’m here, defenseless, and you’re not attacking me is proof.” Matoi could not argue back. She had no reason not to capture this woman here and now when she had to change the future. “No wonder you’re a detective. Yes, my analysis tells me there is something wrong with me. I can’t process priorities on the spot.” Was it a defect of her idea circuit she couldn’t yet discover, or was it something else? The only person who could give her an answer was not there. “Hey, you’re human, too. It happens. We all make illogical decisions sometimes.” “Human…” Emi was defenseless, showing no enmity, just talking to Matoi. Killing or capturing her would be easy. And her causality interference value remained at 100. Matoi felt like she could begin to understand why she couldn’t make the most logical decision. Instead of doing the logical thing as a weapon and a machine, she chose the illogical way of her own sense of justice and was defeated. “So let’s talk first, yeah? We have the intelligence to communicate with each other. Violence is a simple way to solve things, but we’d rather leave it as a last resource, don’t you think?” Talk. Matoi hadn’t considered the possibility even once. Or rather, it was way too low on her priority list. After all, she had lived in a world that allowed for no talk up until now. “Go take a shower first,” Emi told her. “You’re pretty dirty.” Normally, Matoi’s mechanical surface needed no washing. Yet she headed to the changing room as suggested. Deep within her idea circuit, a democratic vote took place: Cleaning her dirty body with warm water would lower her discomfort and raise her operating efficiency. She opened the door to the changing room and went inside. It was cramped. There was a washing machine, a towel rack, and a door to the shower area. Matoi got undressed while defragmenting her memory. That reminds me—I wonder what happened to the kids I borrowed these clothes from. I hope they’re not cold. No, of course they are. Whether due to having just rebooted, fatigue from the battle, or even both, her idea circuit’s processing was slower than usual and full of unrelated static. That was why she didn’t notice something—there were already two sets of clothes in the changing room. Heat and steam and the sound of running water came from the shower area. That was why she failed to realize—beyond the door were two naked figures: Veltol and Sihlwald, showering together. “?!” “Mm!” “What is it?” The Demon Lord, the Black Dragon, and humanity’s last Hero made eye contact. “?!” “Oh, sorry,” Emi called. “Looks like it’s too late to tell you they’re already using the shower.” “Yes, much too late!” Matoi cried. How could anyone even forget that? But before Matoi’s idea circuit could question Emi’s judgment, Sihlwald spoke. “Hey, you’re not allowed in here! I understand why you’d want to shower with us, but you’re not getting your way just because you’re a little cute!” “Negative! I didn’t mean to—” “I’m showering with him! Begone!” “Sister, you pushed your way in here… I wanted to shower alone…” “Shut up! No grumbling! Know your place as the kid brother!” “Please don’t pull that. You’ll tear it right off me.” “What are these two doing…?” First of all, Matoi’s idea circuit couldn’t process why a dragon like Sihlwald would claim to be Veltol’s older sister; next, she couldn’t process why siblings would take a shower together. “Heh, very well,” said Veltol. “I shall forgive your insolent peeping. You may enter. Take a good look.” “I will do no such thing!” Matoi slammed the door shut. Month of the Gryphon, Day 2, 2099 FE, 19:30 “Now, then.” Before Matoi’s eyes stood a man with his long, black hair tied up. He was wearing a bandana and apron, with a broom in his right hand and a duster in his left. This was the man calling himself the Demon Lord Veltol. “Is everyone ready?” he asked. Emi and Sihlwald were similarly dressed to clean the Chabatake Detective Agency. Matoi was no exception—she, too, wore a cleaning outfit. “Ready as ever, my trusty assistant,” said Emi. “I may be more skilled at dirtying than cleaning, but I shall complete this mission.” “What a drag… I never even cleaned my own den,” Sihlwald grumbled. “It’s hard not to end up scrolling or gaming in the middle of it, right?” “Yeah, you get it!” Sihlwald and Emi bumped fists in a secret handshake. “Suggestion. I am not made for housework. This is beyond my area of support.” Everyone was hugely motivated. So how did things end up like this? “Okay, people. The next job is pretty heavy, so let’s hold a detective meeting here.” “Emi, question. What is a detective meeting?” “A meeting between detectives, my dear Matoi.” “That gives me no additional information.” “We shall also clean this office while we’re at it.” “I don’t see the logical connection between a detective meeting and cleaning.” “Do you not see the mess around us? It is only logical that we clean this place.” “Well said, Brother. One must always clean before a meeting…” “Huh? A-am I the weird one?!” And thus the decision to clean the Chabatake Detective Agency was made. “Let’s cut to the chase. Who are you?” Veltol asked Matoi while soaking a cloth in water and wringing it out. “I don’t think you’ll believe me…” “That will be up to me to decide.” Matoi figured that since they had no intention of destroying or even restraining her, she should share intel and try to get their help. “I came here from Washington, fifty years in the future—the thirty-first of the Month of the Undine in the year 2149 FE. Washington’s population in 2149 is one million—1,004,812, to be precise. That is the entirety of the human race. I used a time machine to come to this era to change the future of humanity’s demise.” Matoi spoke of the New Demon Lord Army. The Eschaton Demon Lord Veltol trying to destroy the world. His True Six Dark Peers. The resistance of the Guild. That she was an Einherjar magiroid, a Hero, a weapon to fight the immortals. The time machine, the space-time divergence, the causality interference. That Emi was a key person to solidifying the doomed future. That the future would be set in stone on Gryphon 4 at 17:36. She hid nothing. This is all so ludicrous. They must find it absolutely unbelievable, Matoi thought while picking up trash from the floor. She gave her three companions a quick glance. “I’m a one hundred on causality interference…? So I’m related to the future ending in destruction? …Meee? Whyyy?” Emi asked Matoi. “I know nothing other than the measurements… Do you not have any idea?” “You think I would? I’d bet your readings are wrong.” Emi shrugged while wringing out a cloth. “Eschaton Demon Lord…Veltol…” Veltol covered his mouth, terribly shocked. “Huh? I do that in the future…?” “And I believed in you, Assistant…” “Whoa, you’re a dirtbag, Veltol,” said Sihlwald. “I always knew you’d do something like that.” “Don’t forget you help him destroy the world, y’know,” Emi added. “Hold on, you two! Would someone as wise as I ever dare to do something so foolish, so outrageously barbaric, as to exterminate humanity? That does not connect with my ultimate goal! I am meant to rule over the world and bring world peace!” “But you killed all those mortals in the war, right?” “S-Sihlwald… Did you not understand that war?! You’re one of the Six Dark Peers! I did not launch a war on the mortals out of hatred! The Immortal War came as a last resort from the breakage of diplomacy!” Veltol swung a cloth around in protest, splashing water everywhere. Sihlwald and Matoi dodged thanks to their supernatural reflexes, but Emi ended up drenched. “But still, I don’t find it unthinkable that you’d do something like that… You said you’d destroy your homeland when I first met you… It kinda makes sense,” said Sihlwald. “Wow, you’ve got big ambitions, Assistant.” “Sister! Who do you take me for?! I am telling you, total annihilation makes zero sense! My power weakens the fewer humans there are. Fewer humans means less faith! Why would I try to eradicate them?!” Veltol fumed while wiping every single nook and cranny. “It just means your emotions won over your political ideals. I wonder what happened for you to do that.” Sihlwald crossed her arms behind her head, using her tail to wipe with a cloth. “It seems you had a strong grudge against humanity.” Matoi swept the floor with careful and unwavering attention. “So he got even angrier than when he fought you, Matoi… I wonder what could do that.” Emi split all the junk into “keep” and “toss” piles, and only the “keep” pile kept growing. “No, no, I was never angry to begin with. That was all an act to fool Matoi. Why would I ever become enraged for that blond man’s sake?” said Veltol. “…You should get an award for that performance, then…,” Sihlwald told him. “Hee-hee. I’ll be honest, I peed myself a little,” Emi admitted. “See that pair of underwear drying over there?” “You did…?” Sihlwald looked at the drying underwear pitifully. “Apologies,” said Matoi. “I still don’t understand what angered Veltol, but analysis tells me I must have been terribly disrespectful. I am sorry.” “No… No need for apologies. I got myself riled up. Mea culpa. I even made you clean up after my mistakes. I’m the one who’s sorry.” “You never know when Veltol’s going to get fiery…,” Sihlwald remarked. “He’ll even steal a motorcycle without a second thought. I can totally see him destroying humanity,” Emi added. “Wait! I only took urgent action because you ordered me to escape! And I’ve already found the motorcycle’s owner and compensated them. However…I suppose I cannot say it would be absolutely unthinkable for me to exterminate the human race, but I’m more hurt that you all accepted the claim so readily…” “W-wait!” Matoi cried. “I realize it’s silly to ask at this point, but… You really believe me?” “Huh? You mean it’s not true?” asked Sihlwald. “Was it all a lie?” said Emi. “I would rather it be a lie, personally,” added Veltol. “N-negative,” Matoi replied. “I spoke the truth, but I didn’t expect you to believe me…” “I mean, why would you lie about it?” asked Emi. “I still question the credibility of me carrying out such an atrocity, but I understand you are an ultra-high-performance magiroid,” said Veltol. “It makes more sense for you not to be of this era.” “Thinking is too much of a pain, so I just go along with whatever these two say!” added Sihlwald. Matoi did not know how to react, having them believe her so easily. If they had asked for proof, she couldn’t open her head and let them check; she had no specific data about this particular day, nor did she have a sports almanac with her. But they trusted her, even after she attacked them out of nowhere. And they could have just as easily laughed it off as nonsense. In that case, she should return the trust. “One correction, if I may. Ultra-high-performance magiroid is not accurate,” Matoi said while putting a half-empty plastic bottle in a trash bag. “Then what are you?” Veltol asked. “An ultra-high-performance and ultra-cute magiroid.” She did a sideways V-sign—a symbol of her trust. “What’s with that pose?” “It’s the latest in cutesy poses fifty years from now.” “Ooh…!” Impressed, Veltol raised two fingers, brought them up to the side of his face, and opened them while moving them sideways. He flashed a smug smile. “So? Am I cute?” he asked Matoi. “Not as much as me, but analysis tells me you are decently cute.” Veltol grinned with satisfaction. Sihlwald looked at him as if to say, What the heck is that guy doing? all while playing with a broom and dustpan like a sword and shield. “Anyway, Matoi,” said Emi, “I’m amazed you can actually travel to the past with a time machine. Aren’t you, Assistant?” “Indeed, time travel is not so easy. I would have laughed it off as a pipedream before.” Veltol paused for a moment. “I once studied time-related magic, and Methenoel was the fruit of that endeavor. The spell sends my soul’s data to the future, where it is reconstructed. Depending on how you look at it, you could say it involves traveling through space and time into the future. But traveling to the past is more difficult…albeit not impossible. In theory, at least. It should not be that surprising that the advancement of technology across five hundred years would exceed my imagination.” Sihlwald showed no interest in Veltol’s explanation. Instead, she asked Matoi a question. “Who were the True Six Dark Peers, by the way?” “The Duchess of Weal and Woe, the Aether Hacker Duchess, the Duke of Desecration, the Duchess of the Thunder Slash, the Black Dragon Duchess, and the Duke of the Iron Shell.” Matoi saw a finger puppet of the bastardized rabbit mascot Ishimary and thought, This thing looks a bit like the Duke of the Iron Shell’s giant MG… She immediately threw it into the trash. “Dunno any of ’em,” Sihlwald said. “Well, except me. I mean, I suppose I would join Veltol if he just said, ‘Hey, let’s destroy the human race!’” “You don’t care much about humans either way, do you, Sihlwald?” Emi said. After careful consideration, Emi tossed the Ishimary finger puppet into the “keep” pile. “Not to worry. Emi likes you. We’ll let you live,” Sihlwald said while putting the Ishimary finger puppet on her finger and playing with it. “Wait,” said Veltol. “Someone important is missing from that list Matoi mentioned.” “Who?” asked Sihlwald. “What’s missing?” said Emi. “Machina, of course.”
Chapter 53
28 min read