Chapter 13

The Independent Magic Battalion finally had the enemy’s headquarters, the disguised landing ship, in their sights.

The deployed enemy forces had consisted of twenty large, wheeled vehicles, sixty upright tanks, and eight hundred combatants. That included numerous magicians.

It wasn’t enough to hold an occupation, but it was enough striking power for a single situation. Now, its armored cars and upright tanks numbered zero, and their troops had been annihilated, sustaining a 70 percent loss.

Standing at the forefront of those who had driven them into a disorganized escape was a flight unit of only forty people.

The Yokohama Incident had entered its final stage.

Katsuto, who had completely taken up the mantle of volunteer army commander, received a report from the Magic Association’s branch office.

“Sir, the enemy warship appears to have left the coast!”

Katsuto raised his eyebrows slightly in surprise. “I didn’t think the enemy troops had finished retreating.”

There were no longer any enemies in sight who were engaged in combat. Of the ones they’d been crossing blades with a few moments ago, some had stayed as a way to buy time, then fled. But all the survivors of that remaining group had surrendered by now, too.

However, this was too early for them to have gotten all their remaining soldiers onto the ship. There should have been more of them around the coastal areas.

“The enemy appears to have given up on collecting their remaining forces. Shall we begin the mop-up operation, sir?” the messenger asked, eyes sparkling. He was still young, probably around Katsuto’s age. They’d just come out of a difficult fight where many of his allies had died. It was only natural that revenge would be burning in his heart.

That, though, was exactly why Katsuto shook his head. “That isn’t our job. It would be an unnecessary risk. We should leave the rest to the JDF.”

“…Understood, sir!”

He probably wasn’t fully convinced, but he also didn’t seem willing to go against the Ten Master Clans’ magician who had brought them victory.

The young man spread the word to the entire volunteer army to cease hostilities.

From the north, the Tsurumi battalion; from the south, the finally-arrived Fujisawa force; and from the west, the Hodogaya garrison and a Fujisawa detachment that had joined them. Unable to endure the three-pronged pressure, the enemy stopped collecting its ground forces midway through and made for a retreat.

Yanagi never intended to let the enemy ship, hastily leaving port, out of his sight. “We’ll leave the stranded troops for later units and attack the enemy’s ship directly. Take out its navigation!”

If they used the MOVAL suits’ aerial mobility, they could soar over the remaining soldiers’ heads, board the ship, and take it over from the inside, but Yanagi wasn’t planning on risking it or burdening themselves with the work.

They formed ranks, placing soldiers with directional bomb-vaporization missiles in the center and those carrying super-penetrative rifles as their escort.

But the very moment before they took off, a voice told them to stop.

“Captain, please refrain from any direct attacks on the enemy ship.”

“Fujibayashi? What’s the problem?”

The one who had cut into their comm had been Fujibayashi. “The ship is using a hydrazine fuel cell. The effects on aquatic life in the Tokyo Bay would be too great if you destroyed it there.”

Yanagi quietly clicked his tongue in frustration.

He didn’t ask her how she knew that.

One of the spells in Fujibayashi’s repertoire could scan a target by detecting electron ray emission and reflection. For her, who could tell the difference between a normal magician and a Generator based on subtle brainwave-pattern differences from over a mile away, it wasn’t difficult to identify the molecular composition of large amounts of fuel stored in a container without even any radiation barriers.

“Then what do we do?” he asked.

“Pull out, Yanagi.”

“Major?” asked Yanagi dubiously as the person on the other end of the comm changed suddenly. Not at the change specifically, but at the order.

“Make no mistake—this doesn’t mean the operation is over. Leave it to the units from Tsurumi and Fujisawa to clean up the remnants, and return to base for now.”

“Roger that, sir.”

This time, his answer was swift and without hesitation, as though he’d organized his thoughts while listening.

Soldiers given flight by the MOVAL suits were great for assaulting the enemy’s headquarters or launching surprise attacks from the flank, but they weren’t suited to operations like mop-ups that called for numbers and time.

And besides, however elite their troops and optimized their systems, they would always accumulate exhaustion when using magic for long periods of time.

Yanagi gave the order to his subordinates to go back to their mobile base.

Leaving the returned Yanagi in command, Major Kazama took Captain Sanada, Second Lieutenant Fujibayashi, and Tatsuya to the Bay Hills Tower rooftop.

The mop-up operation (the battle to clear away the remaining enemy troops and restore the region to a non-combat state) was almost complete. There were sporadic flashes of light and gunshot noises here and there, but they, too, would calm during this evening. They also planned to open up a temporary tunnel tomorrow to the shelter, which had been buried underground when the passage collapsed. The people who had evacuated there were actually in a more pleasant environment than the temporary shelters constructed aboveground.

The current time was 6:00 PM.

Twilight—the hour of monsters.

“Enemy ship traveling south through Sagami Sea at thirty knots,” reported Lieutenant Fujibayashi to Kazama, watching a small, portable monitor. “It’s about halfway between the Bousou Peninsula and Ooshima. I don’t believe sinking it now would cause problems.”

Kazama nodded and turned to Sanada. “Unseal the Third Eye.”

“Yes, sir.”

After receiving a key card from Kazama, Sanada, face almost imprudently happy, unlocked a large case sitting next to him. They’d gotten this case delivered posthaste from their Kasumigaura headquarters. It was locked with a compound key, which needed a key card, a vein-authentication key, a password, and voiceprint recognition.

“Form is emptiness and emptiness is form.”

“Password accepted.”

The voice response was an unnecessary thing, a hobby of Sanada’s, but this strict seal was no game.

Inside was a large rifle-shaped CAD.

Sanada took the CAD—the Third Eye—and handed it over to Tatsuya, who was still in his MOVAL suit and helmet.

Tatsuya pulled a cord out of the stock and plugged it into the suit’s right wrist joint. The cable extending from the joint went through the suit, connecting to the helmet.

“Specialist Ooguro,” said Kazama, calling Tatsuya by his code name. “Use Material Burst and sink the enemy ship.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tatsuya’s voice was tense.

He hadn’t used the spell in real battle in three years, but he had no fear he’d succeed at Material Burst itself. The tension made him excited as he gave a warrior-like tremble.

Tatsuya faced south and placed the stock on his shoulder.

“Stratospheric surveillance camera link established,” Fujibayashi, looking at the laptop monitor next to them, reported to Kazama.

It wasn’t something Tatsuya needed to be told. The linked infrared image of the enemy ship was now displaying in his visor.

The border surveillance cameras, loaded onto stratospheric platforms floating in the sky in a loop around the Japanese island, had sent their images to the Third Eye through its antenna.

Tatsuya, identifying the target and data from the same screen Fujibayashi was monitoring, probed the current status of the ship’s side view.

Countless water droplets stuck to the ship’s hull. From those, he selected droplets stuck to the deck exactly above the hydrazine fuel tank.

Then, on a single drop of seawater the surveillance cameras’ analytical functions could never pick out, aided by the Third Eye’s long-distance precision aiming assistance system, he used his ability to see eidos and took aim.

“Activating Material Burst,” he said, pulling the trigger.

A sense of relief had washed over the Great Asian Alliance’s disguised landing ship as they traveled south through the Sagami Sea.

“Japan didn’t attack us after all.”

“Hmph…as if they’d have the gall.”

“They could have been cautious of hydrazine leakage, sir.”

“Same thing. They’re still obsessed with their hypocritical environmental concerns, which let the enemy retreat before their eyes.”

The state of mind, no matter what nation the soldiers were from, would seem the same in that nobody used the word flee.

They’d realized they were being monitored somehow, whether it was from satellites or the stratospheric platforms, but they didn’t think any further attack would come.

One couldn’t call that a misstep, either. Basic theory stated that if Japan had wanted to, they’d have attacked long ago. They’d at least be trailing them with a ship or an aircraft.

“…Remember this. We’ll pay you back double for this humiliation.”

Their return home was already a predetermined fact for them, and more than a couple of officers were quick to swear vengeance.

And then, when they were about to pass east of Ooshima—

An alarm went off, indicating a psi-wave fluctuation. It alerted them to a CAD aiming-assistance system locking on to them.

“What is—?”

Going on, was probably what the captain wanted to say.

That, too, was only natural, for there was no trace of an enemy in at least a six-mile radius.

But the ship’s captain couldn’t finish his short line.

A burning-hot orb of light sprang to life on the deck.

It heated the air until a shock wave occurred, melted the deck, and caused a jet stream of vaporized metal, completely burning all flammable materials to a crisp—including the hydrazine—and then, turning into a giant ball of flame, it engulfed the ship.

The scorching hellfires created by Material Burst could be seen from the Bay Hills Tower and through stratospheric surveillance cameras as well.

The ultimate dismantling magic, Material Burst: a spell that dismantled matter into energy.

It was not a pair annihilation reaction. Tatsuya had broken matter down directly into energy, so the energy loss from neutrino emission that occurred during a matter-antimatter reaction didn’t happen. As Einstein’s theory predicted, the matter converted to energy at a factor of the speed of light squared.

The amount of heat created by the breakdown of a single drop of water, fifty milligrams of mass, was equivalent to one ton of TNT.

All that heat had been instantaneously created in the space of a water droplet.

“…Explosion confirmed at the enemy ship’s coordinates. We can’t make out the situation due to the water vapor explosion, but I estimate it has sunk,” reported Fujibayashi, looking at the monitor.

“I did sink it, ma’am,” corrected Tatsuya, then asked, “Any danger of a tsunami?”

“Everything’s fine; we don’t need to worry about that.”

“Pinpointing a water droplet fifty millimeters square at a distance of fifty miles or so… We’ve demonstrated the Third Eye’s full capabilities, sir,” reported Sanada to Kazama, elated.

Kazama nodded silently to him, then said to Tatsuya, “Excellent work.”

“Yes, sir.” Tatsuya saluted.

Kazama nodded, then declared the operation over.

Gongjin Zhou learned of the Yokohama invasion ship’s disappearance while at a banquet by himself. His master, who had the power to know all the information being exchanged in the world, had notified him by encrypted mail.

Gongjin Zhou gave a thin smile. No part of his heart mourned their deaths. They were all simply people who happened to live in the same country as his ancestors. Zhou had never received any protection from their country, not even once. For all that, it was now natural for them to ask him for aid or demand money from him. He had no reason whatsoever to feel goodwill for them. In the same way, he had no reason to have goodwill toward this country’s government, either.

Nations were better off weak. That’s what Zhou thought. The weaker a nation, the stronger the money. If every nation was weaker, state controls would loosen, too. Then they’d be able to do their work freely.

His current objective—to catch many magicians in battle and let them die, thereby weakening national military force of magic—had, in the case of this nation, failed. But that country would have sustained more than few losses. Plus, that country seemed like it was planning on mobilizing their tactical magician, their trump card, momentarily. Zhou’s master had made sure of it. When that happened, this nation’s tactical magician would likely take the field.

Which would survive? Or would it end with both of them dead?

Gongjin Zhou lifted his glass of wine, an evil smile coming onto his face.

Miyuki returned home and spent the night by herself.

Being alone wasn’t unusual. Tatsuya would, at times, be absent for Independent Magic Battalion drills and training. But he would always faithfully contact her, and he’d called her today as well.

Besides, even if the two of them were far apart, they were always connected. Not in an abstract or theoretical sense—his power was always keeping watch over her surroundings, always protecting her from threats.

It was the same now. Even if she cut off her influence over her brother, her brother almost never cut off his protection of her. Tatsuya was always unconsciously watching over her.

It made her feel incredibly guilty, but she was still happy for it.

All of a sudden, the phone’s incoming-call melody began to play.

It was a tune that almost never played.

And thus, destiny knocked on the door

As that phrase suggested, this melody was always one that changed the girl’s fate.

She quickly rose, took a moment to groom her appearance, then went in front of the camera and opened the call channel. “Hello, Aunt Maya. It’s been a long time since I last heard from you.”

“I’m sorry for calling so late, Miyuki.”

“Please, don’t mention it.” Miyuki came up from her deep bow and saw in the screen an elegant woman smiling, wearing a long dress all in a color close to black.

Her real age was over forty, but she looked no older than thirty—and that applied not only when seen through a screen but also in real life.

Unlike Miyuki, who gave the impression of being unapproachable due to being too beautiful, this woman had a mature prettiness that the opposite sex wouldn’t be able to help feeling attracted to.

She was the younger twin sister of Miyuki and Tatsuya’s mother, and the current head of the Yotsuba family.

The strongest magician in the world.

It was Maya Yotsuba, in the flesh.

“Well, all right… Still, you must have been through a lot today.”

“I apologize for causing you worry,” answered Miyuki shortly, sitting down gracefully in front of the camera.

Maya nodded gently at her niece. “I’m relieved to see you safe and sound. Well, Tatsuya is with you, so I knew there was nothing to worry about, but… By the way, where might Tatsuya be at the moment?” asked Maya, as though she’d just remembered.

But Miyuki wasn’t fooled. This question was clearly the reason for her aunt’s call. “Unfortunately, my brother still has work left to do, and hasn’t returned.”

“Oh! I’m sure Tatsuya is goofing off somewhere, leaving his cute little sister behind at home, isn’t he?” Maya put a hand to her cheek as if to say, What a handful.

“I truly apologize for troubling you so. I myself don’t know the full details of what my brother is doing…” In contrast, Miyuki carried through with her courtesy, never letting her respectful attitude diminish. “However, Aunt Maya, it is no cause for worry. My brother’s strength is always protecting me.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right. Miyuki, even if you can break his chains, he can’t cancel his own restrictions, can he?” Maya smiled sweetly. Behind her smile was an indication that she knew Miyuki had undone his shackles without her permission.

“Yes, that’s correct, Aunt Maya. Wherever my brother might be, he would never in his life abandon his duty as my Guardian.” Nevertheless, Miyuki’s civil attitude remained intact.

“That’s a relief to hear. Oh, yes. Why don’t the two of you visit the mansion, say, this Sunday? I’d very much like to see you in person. It’s been a long time.”

“I’m much obliged. When my brother returns, I will tell him as well.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it. Good night, Miyuki.”

“Good night, Aunt Maya.”

The screen blacked out, and seeing that the call had completely ended, Miyuki let out a heavy breath and collapsed down onto the sofa.

Talking to her aunt always put immense pressure on her. And for some reason, she only called when Tatsuya was away—likely with the knowledge that he was.

That was how her aunt was. She doubtlessly knew more than even Miyuki did about him.

Nevertheless, Miyuki could never let anything careless slip in front of Maya. If she made any unprepared remarks, it would only put more limitations on her brother.

She opened the curtains and looked into the western sky where her brother was.

In order to bring the incident to a complete close, her brother had accompanied Kazama to Tsushima. That was, at the very least, what he’d told Miyuki when he contacted her, and he would never lie to her.

She knew it needed to be done.

Tatsuya being treated as necessary was an even happier occasion for Miyuki than it was for him.

Still, today,

tonight,

in her heart,

she wanted Tatsuya at her side.

She was the only one in the house right now.

Enduring the weight of reaped lives was painful and lonely on her own.

Tatsuya… she thought, softly wrapping her arms around herself.

She thought of the warmth of her brother’s arms gently cradling her, and her grip on herself tightened.

October 31, AD 2095.

Today was Halloween, but Tatsuya, who was not Christian, had no special attachment to the day. He had come, instead, to the Tsushima Stronghold.

Thirty-five years earlier, near the end of World War III, or the Twenty Years’ Global War Outbreak, this island had been attacked by the Great Asian Alliance’s Goryeo Autonomous District’s army, which had killed 70 percent of the island’s inhabitants. The attack had been the result of Japan placing a cursory defense force on the island, despite it not being within their border, though the real reason was to needlessly stimulate other nations.

The Goryeo Army had its own justification. And those were the times.

But it didn’t change the fact that 70 percent of the islanders had died, 20 percent of those who escaped had suffered minor to major wounds of some sort, the remaining 10 percent had been kidnapped, and the island occupied.

After they’d retaken Tsushima, the Japanese government had turned the island into a fortress. A frontline base with a giant military port, steadfast ramparts, and top-of-the-line anti-air, anti-ship armaments. The Tsushima Stronghold.

“Specialist, come to the operations room” came an order through the comm in his left ear after the call noise.

Tatsuya left the roof and went back into the fortress.

The Korean Peninsula was visible as a shadow across the sea he’d been staring at.

“Good, you’re here” came an offhanded response to Tatsuya, who, still in his MOVAL suit, helmet, and mask, entered the room and saluted. Kazama instructed him to take a seat.

The strange sight of him, hidden behind an all-black one-piece suit and a full-face helmet, drew stares from the stronghold’s staff, but Tatsuya ignored them and sat on a chair in the corner of the operations room.

A few moments later, Yanagi and Yamanaka showed up.

As soon as he saw everyone had gotten there, Kazama got right down to business. “As we expected…” he said, “the enemy navy is preparing to sortie. Take a look at this image.”

On the large display using an entire wall was a photograph that appeared to have been taken by a satellite. It showed a fleet with almost ten large ships and twice as many destroyers and torpedo boats getting ready to leave a port.

“This photo is from five minutes ago. Judging from this, the enemy will leave port in no less than two hours. Considering the scope of this mobilization, this isn’t a tentative attack—we can assume they want to occupy either northern Kyushu, San’in, or Hokuriku.”

“Do they mean to start an actual war, sir?” came the question from a young second lieutenant. Kazama looked at him—judging by his age, he must have been assigned to the fortress recently.

“I’m sure they think they’ve been at war ever since three years ago,” answered Yanagi sarcastically, rather than Kazama.

The lieutenant who asked the question went red with embarrassment and withdrew.

“Sorry about that. Seems like our unit is unacquainted with courtesy,” said Kazama, first saving face, then driving the point home again. “But in the end, Captain Yanagi is correct. There is no peace treaty between Japan and the Great Asian Alliance—not even a truce. If they’re mobilizing their fleet without so much as a notification, they probably decided they don’t care if we interpret it as a preparation to attack.”

Customarily, if for a noncombat purpose, large-scale naval mobilizations came with notifications to nearby countries or international announcements, even if communications would be confined to that country’s waters.

Moving a fleet without making their objective public during a ceasefire or a cessation of hostilities was generally interpreted as an expression of intent to reopen warfare against another country.

The mood in the conference room tensed all at once.

“In response to the enemy fleet that has already finished mobilizing, our navy has, unfortunately, just started mobilizing yesterday. At present, we can only combat the enemy’s naval forces using ground or air strength.”

The air increased in weight.

“A difficult battle would be unavoidable.”

Nobody requested permission to speak.

“So, in order to solve this situation, the Independent Magic Battalion will be deploying its strategic magic weapon. Permission for this operation has already been received from a joint staff conference.”

The fortress’s staff looked at Kazama with eyes that were a mix of anticipation and doubt.

“For this, we’d like to borrow observation room one. Also, if this attack succeeds, then at the same time…”

Kazama continued his explanation.

However, Tatsuya didn’t feel the need to listen to any more. His job was only to attack with the strategic magic weapon, and he would have nothing to do after that.

He’d looked over the stronghold-related documents on his way to Tsushima.

Observation room one was one of the facilities that kept watch on enemy shorelines using low-altitude satellites.

That was the only piece of information Tatsuya needed to know: what they’d be doing there, and what they’d be making him do.

Tatsuya, still in his MOVAL suit, Third Eye in hand, stood in the center of the full sky screen.

This screen was made to process satellite imagery in three dimensions and observe an enemy camp from a desired angle. Right now, at Tatsuya’s request, it was showing an image looking down from a hundred feet above sea level, and at a horizontal distance of three hundred thirty feet.

“Specialist Ooguro, are you ready?” asked Sanada.

“Preparations complete, sir. Link with the satellite is good,” answered Tatsuya, standby complete, his voice altered by his helmet.

“Prepare to activate Material Burst.”

At Kazama’s voice, Tatsuya raised the Third Eye.

The Chinhae Naval Port.

The Great Asian Alliance fleet assembled on the other side of Geojedo Fortress.

The battle flag of the center battleship, likely the flagship.

He aimed at its waving colors.

Using the 3-D image as a handhold, he accessed its eidos.

The battle flag weighed approximately two pounds.

“Preparation complete,” he whispered.

But a whisper was enough in the deathly silent room.

“Activate Material Burst.”

“Activating Material Burst.”

Tatsuya repeated Kazama’s order and pulled the Third Eye’s trigger.

From inside Tsushima Stronghold, across open sea, to the Chinhae Naval Port—

Tatsuya’s spell converted approximately two pounds of mass into energy.

The heat released, based on Einstein’s theory, was equivalent to twenty-two megatons of TNT.

The screen blacked out.

The immense heat had caused the satellite’s safeties to kick in.

So the only thing they could see of the hell created there was the scar it left behind.

Suddenly, on the flagship stopped in the back of Chinhae Naval Port, a sun was born.

There was no other way to describe the heat, but nobody there would be able to tell future generations about it.

The immeasurable incandescence vaporized the metal on the ship, tossing heavy-metal steam all about.

The air rapidly expanded, crossing the speed of sound.

In that jet stream of heat rays, shock waves, and metallic vapor, both the fleet and the Chinhae Naval Port were annihilated.

Things nearby, man and object alike, were vaporized.

Those men and objects a little farther away exploded and were reduced to ashes.

The inferno scorched the surface of the sea, causing a water vapor explosion.

Whirlwinds and tsunamis sprang forth, swallowing up the Geojedo Fortress on the opposite shore. If the island of Geojedo hadn’t served its purpose as a levee, then Tsushima and the northern Kyushu coast wouldn’t have avoided damage themselves.

The destruction didn’t stop with the Chinhae Naval Port.

The shock wave spread to nearby military installations. The only good part about it was that there was no civilian city near the naval base.

When the flaming atrocity settled, there was nothing left.

When the satellite image restored, every single one of the Tsushima Stronghold staff, without exception, gasped.

One of the younger officers had to run to the bathroom to regurgitate the contents of his stomach.

Nobody could laugh at his behavior or call it unsightly.

Because even the members of the IMB couldn’t hide their pale faces.

They had, for the first time, seen what strategic magic truly was.

“Enemy status?” asked Kazama.

Fujibayashi hastily checked the monitor. “Enemy fleet destroyed… No, they’ve disappeared. Shall we go on the offensive, sir?”

As she said, it would be easy to occupy the place now.

But Kazama didn’t nod his head. “We don’t need to. We’re omitting our later plans and ending the operation.”

“Everyone prepare to return home!”

After Kazama’s command, Yanagi ordered the withdrawal.

Tatsuya placed the Third Eye on the floor.

Behind his helmet, in his eyes, was not a single trace of unrest.

The Scorching Halloween.

That was the name historians in later generations would give to this day.

It was a turning point in military history—even seen by some to be a turning point in history at large.

It was the incident that proved the superiority of magic over mechanical weapons as well as atomic, biological, and chemical.

It was the event that made it clear that magic was the force that separated victory from defeat.

And it was the true first day of the history of glory and suffering that would come to the race called magicians.