“I wonder who the traitor is…”

Gongjin Zhou’s graceful eyes clouded as he gazed at the report automatically scrolling by. Wrinkles creased his brow. It was rare for him to show overt displeasure like this.

The date had just changed from April 26 to April 27 a short while earlier. He, however, didn’t notice. That was how focused he was on the report in his hands.

The scrolling stopped, and Zhou looked up from the information terminal. After a brief sigh, he reached for the wineglass on the table. This was the third time he’d read over the report. He couldn’t spot any mistakes in the text. He didn’t seriously think there would be any, but in the end, he’d needed to borrow the power of alcohol, if only a small amount, to wipe away the sense of vain effort he felt after he finished reaffirming the unfortunate truth.

The report was a written investigation pertaining to the trend of public opinion. It was the result of detailed investigation on what non-magicians felt toward magicians, investigated through some illegal methods.

If this report had been on paper, it would have been quite thick, and it showed that ill feelings toward magicians had gone up since the end of the past year. The worsening just this month had been conspicuous. His media manipulation was certainly having results.

But they weren’t all Zhou had been hoping for. It clearly hadn’t reached the levels he’d calculated it would. Certainly there had been an unexpected factor, that play to the audience by those First High students. With only that irregularity, however, there was still an inexplicable dissociation between his projected values and the actual ones.

“Inexplicable, even considering Rosen’s intervention… This must mean there is a media outlet that hasn’t acted as I instructed.”

He called something up on the screen—a views-per-day count on a video from a media outlet critical toward magicians. It was clear as day: a shortage compared to his plans. In other words, in the corporation that managed push-type video media, including television, someone had broken their promise.

“How foolish, to break a contract… I’m not interested in violence, but if I must.”

All Zhou had done was shady business. Business that featured no contracts guaranteeing legality. That was why he needed to make sure the contracts were effective personally. Even if it had been a verbal agreement—no, because it had been a verbal agreement—he would use any means at his disposal. He would reward keeping agreements and punish breaching them.

“Come to think of it, it’s already been a year since inviting Mr. Sun’s nephew… That should be long enough to entrust a job to him.”

Gongjin Zhou made his decision: He would borrow a friend’s help and grant a penalty to the traitor.

Friday, April 27. Takuma stayed home from school.

He was this year’s new student representative, and a celebrity among the freshmen. Many of his classmates knew about the disturbance he’d caused yesterday. And one day later, he was absent. All sorts of rumors were floating about the freshman floor.

The Saegusa sisters had beaten him and he was asleep in bed.

No, he was asleep in bed because an upperclassman had punished him.

He wasn’t injured, but he was holed up at home out of shock that he’d lost.

He’d won the match, but he took responsibility for causing a disturbance and was voluntarily confining himself to his house.

He had been ordered to confine himself at home, and from there he was plotting to overthrow an upperclassman.

Most of the rumors like these were based mainly on spite. But a few did among them did graze the truth.

“Big Brother Tatsuya, Takuma Shippou is absent today.”

For those reasons, Tatsuya knew that fact before Minami faithfully reported it to him via text message, and he had a pretty solid guess as to why.

Takuma hadn’t been ordered to confine himself at home. That wasn’t a guess, but the truth. What was correct (or seemed correct) despite the rumors was the part where he was preparing for a match with an upperclassman.

Million Edge, which one could call the personal spell of the Shippou family, was a colony control spell one could activate without using a CAD. That was because it set the spell into preactivation standby mode in advance, then used the caster’s psions as a key to trigger. It was a conditionally activated delayed spell. Leaving colony control’s difficulty aside, the use of a delayed spell to omit manual CAD operation wasn’t a rare one. In the United Kingdom, for example, the Goldie family’s Magic Bullet Tathlum spell operated on the same principle.

Million Edge’s unique trait lay in the technique that kept it in standby mode. You would use symbols to physically record a spell directly before its activation. At a glance, the technique appeared the same as for seal-type spells, but while those streamed psions through the symbols to create a magic program and alter events, Shippou’s spell was only a conditionally activated delayed spell—you wouldn’t need to build the magic program on the spot. When faced with an enemy, it wouldn’t need time to set up.

In exchange, you had to record the magic’s standby state beforehand. With seal-type spells, if you included the necessary information in the magic program’s structure, even a machine could engrave the symbols. This was because it was fundamentally the same as saving an activation sequence to a CAD. But Shippou’s spell actually used the same process as activating magic, so the caster had to record the spell.

Plus, the record itself could only be used once. Which made sense because it only released a spell that had been stopped right before activation; it was different in nature from the record of magic that could be used anytime that Tatsuya was searching for. In other words, Million Edge was a spell that took a lot of time to prepare beforehand.

Right now, Takuma was probably pouring his efforts into creating an activation medium for Million Edge for the upcoming match tomorrow. If he planned on winning it, it made sense that he’d need to take today off.

In any case, Minami had informed Tatsuya of Takuma’s movements because Tatsuya had decided that investigating whoever his supporters were involved keeping track of him. Minami was worried that Takuma might contact the mastermind while they were still tied up at school, but Tatsuya believed that to be a groundless fear. Today was Friday. All teenagers, not just magic high school students, would be at school right now. Playing hooky might not earn someone a warning, but they would stand out. Takuma, who was at least trying to maintain this conspiracy, wouldn’t want too many eyes on him. Tatsuya figured he’d only contact his backer after night fell. And anyway, Fujibayashi’s team was observing him, apparently, so if anything happened, they’d contact Tatsuya.

Until night, Tatsuya decided to focus on his schoolwork like a normal student.

“Our disciplinary target is Yoshio Sawamura. President of the Culture Communication Network, otherwise known as CulNet.”

As Gongjin Zhou spoke to the young man sitting across from him, Robert Sun, he placed a leather attaché case on the table.

Robert opened the case. Inside were an automatic pistol and a large knife, plastic explosives and a wireless detonator device, and a brass-colored ring.

“You’d like me to put an end to this man?” asked Robert in a surly manner.

Zhou shook his head, a regretful smile on his face. “Normally, yes, but unfortunately, Yoshio Sawamura is currently on a business trip to Paris,” he said, handing Robert a large binder.

Robert flipped through the paper documents, which were unusual in this day and age. A young woman’s photograph and detailed personal information were included.

“So his daughter instead?”

“It should be enough of a warning.”

Robert clapped the binder closed and looked back at the attaché case. His eyes were drawn to the metal ring made of antinite.

“Does she have a magician guarding her?”

“He isn’t a bodyguard, but recently, he has been around her frequently. He’s still a child, but he does belong to the Eighteen Support Clans.”

“I see.” A savage grin came to Robert’s lips. “A magician created by the Japanese military…”

Strictly speaking, Robert had the wrong idea. The Twenty-Eight—the Ten Master Clans plus the Eighteen Support Clans—were magicians who had been created by magician development laboratories, not by the military itself. But Zhou didn’t intend to correct that minor misunderstanding. Magicians in Japan’s military were targets of family revenge for Robert. He was enthusiastic now, and throwing cold water on that would be a foolish move.

“The schedule is written there. I could only prepare rings for two people, but I’ve several sets of guns and knives ready if you need.”

“That’s enough. I’ll use them.”

Robert Sun picked up the attaché case and binder and stood up, and Gongjin Zhou saw him off with a smile.

Tatsuya was reviewing his classwork after getting home when he looked up at the sound of the alarm at the edge of his desk. It was a signal from Fujibayashi. He hadn’t asked her what methods she was using to do her observation, but the Independent Magic Battalion had little manpower, so she couldn’t have been using numbers. She’d probably hacked into the roadside cameras’ identification system to keep an eye on when Takuma went out. If she had, that would make him an accomplice to an invasion of privacy via unlawful usage of public systems, but he didn’t feel at all guilty about it.

Putting morals to the side for the moment, or rather, never having thought about them to begin with, Tatsuya stood up from his chair—to meet up with Fujibayashi, of course. He told Miyuki and Minami to mind the house—in other words, to absolutely not come after him—and climbed onto his personal electric bike.

As they watched, Takuma disappeared out of a medium-rise building, part of a high-class apartment complex district. He didn’t give any sign he detected followers. He did seem concerned about whether someone might be watching, but the way he was paying attention was amateurish and insufficient.

“It doesn’t look like the Shippou family’s head is putting his son through military training.”

“To categorize it properly, ma’am, I believe that would be spy training. By the way, Lieutenant, why is Captain Sanada here as well?”

Tatsuya had parked his motorcycle at a station, and now he was observing from the back of a large sedan the apartment complex Takuma had entered. Next to him was Fujibayashi, a desktop-sized information terminal resting on her lap, and in the front seat was Sanada, operating a large tablet.

“Because if this kid has talent and a bone to pick with the Ten Master Clans, he’d be a perfect fit for our unit,” answered Sanada, turning around in the front seat.

Tatsuya lifted his eyebrows slightly in surprise. “Do you plan on scouting him for the Independent Magic Battalion, sir?”

“Oh, would you not like that, Tatsuya? If you say you dislike Shippou, we’ll have no choice but to give up.”

Tatsuya scowled. “Why do you make it sound like I have any choice in the matter, ma’am?”

“Well, ‘Specialist Ryuuya Ooguro’ is our unit’s greatest strength. We couldn’t afford to put him in a bad mood.”

This was a joke of Fujibayashi’s, of course. But getting riled up about it now wouldn’t lead anywhere good. That was what Tatsuya’s gut instinct told him.

“…It’s not exactly because I hate him, ma’am. I honestly don’t care what he does as long as he doesn’t meddle in my business.”

“Well, they do say the opposite of love is apathy, right?” put in Fujibayashi. Tatsuya didn’t deign to comment on that.

“…Then why are you helping with this investigation?”

With the baton passed from Fujibayashi to Sanada, the latter’s question was a reasonable one, so Tatsuya couldn’t keep his silence this time. “If guys like Blanche are backing him, then all making the Shippou settle down will do is make the next problem child appear.”

Fujibayashi burst out laughing partway through Tatsuya’s explanation. She was probably amused by his calling someone else a problem child. Not that Tatsuya especially cared.

“I see,” Sanada said. “If it were just Shippou being rowdy, you could tolerate it, but if a second person, and then a third, and then a fourth show up, that would be an annoyance to you.”

“An annoyance isn’t all it would be, but…yes, sir.” Tatsuya’s answer was mixed with a sigh.

“Oh, looks like they’re gonna start talking. Want to listen?” asked Fujibayashi, who had been having this conversation with an earbud in her opposite ear the whole time. Apparently she’d started hearing Takuma’s conversation with the “mastermind” through the bug they’d planted on him.

“Yes, ma’am, if you don’t mind.”

Smirking at Tatsuya’s response, Fujibayashi switched the sound output to the car speakers.

In general, Takuma didn’t look very happy. At least that was the kind of boy he was when Maki Sawamura looked at him. Even when he was talking about how he’d gotten the top grades in the entrance exam and been chosen as the new student representative, he hadn’t been visibly happy.

But today he was more disgruntled than usual. Maybe he thought he had the same face on as always, but it was clear as day to Maki.

She was an actress, a professional at faking facial expressions. On top of her naturally beautiful features, her acting skills allowed her to display whatever emotion she wanted on-screen—joy, anger, sadness, pleasure, tenderness, malice, love, or hatred—and they’d won her the number-one spot among young actresses. Her eyes could not be fooled.

“Takuma, I haven’t had dinner yet today. It’ll be light—do you mind?”

If she got right to the topic, she’d probably end up on the receiving end of his complaints and ire. Instead, with her meal excuse, she schemed to stall for time he could use to cool off.

“At this hour? Wouldn’t that be bad for your figure?”

“That’s why it’ll be a light meal. It’s mostly done already, so I’ll bring it out.”

Mentally giving a point to Takuma for not saying something rude like You’ll get fat, Maki withdrew to the dining room.

What she brought out were thinly-sliced baguettes and hors d’oeuvres like cured ham, salmon, tomatoes, and avocadoes. They certainly appeared light, but that didn’t necessarily reflect how many calories they contained.

Takuma had come after finishing dinner, but not caring about that, he reached for the hors d’oeuvres Maki had made. For about five minutes, Takuma’s mouth was mainly used for eating and drinking. He didn’t realize that the fruit juice he gulped to wash down the saltier hors d’oeuvres had a little alcohol mixed in. She’d used liqueur in the little bites as well, but he didn’t notice that, either.

Timing it for when Takuma had cleaned up most of the “light meal” on the plates himself, Maki began to speak to him in the voice of an open-minded and accepting older sister. (Incidentally, this was when Fujibayashi switched the sound output.)

Takuma, who usually didn’t like to show any weakness, was, for some reason, quite talkative tonight.

“…Oh, I see. That must have been mortifying for you.”

Maki comforted the young man in a sweet voice that would have made any of her fans breathe a sigh. Right now, she was sitting next to him on a three-person sofa with her hand on his shoulder, peering into his face as she talked to him.

“I’m not mortified! It was never a fair fight to begin with! If we’d kept on going, I would have won!”

Takuma had been repeating that over and over for a while now, but Maki never let any distaste cross her face as she stuck with him. “Of course, Takuma. In reality, you would have won. You would have won the respect and the praise afforded to the victor. I think it only didn’t happen because you were unlucky.”

“You think so…?”

“Yes. People say luck is part of skill, but that isn’t right. The truly skilled will always win in the end regardless of luck. But when you look at individual, smaller matches, luck sometimes affects the outcome. It’s happened to me personally many times—where the stars didn’t line up, and I didn’t get a role I wanted.”

With one hand on Takuma’s shoulder, Maki put her other over the back of Takuma’s hand.

A soft sensation stroked his skin, and a smell like honey stimulated his nose.

“So you’ll be fine, Takuma. You just happened to have bad luck yesterday. A trivial match like that won’t affect your future.”

“I guess…”

They’d already gone through similar exchanges several times, but Takuma finally showed a different reaction. Internally relieved, Maki knew it would just take one more push.

“It’s true. So cheer up.”

Maki guided Takuma’s hand onto her lap. Using seduction to achieve her ends went against her policy, but a timid Takuma was enough to pique her playful spirit.

Takuma’s hand slid little by little from her knee toward her thigh, but it was Maki who was moving it that way. She was wearing a loose, open-front dress, the skirt long. But at the chest it was open wide, and its fabric was thin enough to see her skin through. Feeling Maki’s skin through her skirt and with his will already slackened because of the alcohol’s effects, Takuma’s self-control began to wane.

Takuma brushed her hand aside and lifted his palm from her thigh.

A moment later, his hands were grabbing Maki’s shoulders.

As the force pushed her down, she only made a token effort to resist.

“Oh, my. This has turned into something big.”

Fujibayashi was clearly amused, but Tatsuya didn’t give her a cold look. He didn’t appear appalled or disdainful, either. His face was cool and calm and unconnected to such ideas as excitement or blushing.

“This may be convenient,” he answered in an extremely dry tone as they listened to the steamy voices over the wiretap.

“Now, what might you be plotting?” asked Fujibayashi with interest, her expression still one of amusement.

“Recently the media have been buzzing with news of a female celebrity buying boys as prostitutes, ma’am,” answered Tatsuya, his tone still businesslike.

“…A threat?” Cracks appeared in Fujibayashi’s grin.

“It should be fine once in a while for us to be using the media.”

“…I’m surprised you thought up something like that so quickly.”

Sanada, who thought of all kinds of villainous plans when it came to technology, offered his opinion with a slight grimace. Although, judging by how he placed the emphasis on the words so quickly, he seemed to think that given more time he’d have thought of it, too.

“If this escalates into an actual crime, the damage the school receives will be too large and we might not be able to use this as a negotiation tool, so we should step in while we can write it off as only attempted.”

Tatsuya, not budging from either Fujibayashi or Sanada’s reaction, calmly proposed a plan.

While entangled with Takuma on the sofa, Maki had been coolly observing him—not that her own expressions of pleasure had been 100 percent an act, though. It may not have been as much as Takuma had drunk, but the alcohol she’d ingested was dulling the brakes on her reason. But even as her eyes looked enraptured, she watched through sober vision the boy’s foolishness as he bent over her. She’d learned the trick to separating physical sensation from mental pleasure long ago.

So even if Takuma didn’t realize it, Maki’s clear mind realized something was wrong. The sliding door to the veranda was opening up with a soft noise. Without a doubt, and even though it had been locked. And regardless of the fact that crime-prevention mechanisms equipped with all the attack power the law would allow had been set up there.

The security alarm wasn’t going off. The bodyguards didn’t seem to notice, either.

“Someone! It’s a thief!” shouted Maki as she pushed Takuma off her, intensely regretting her overreliance on the security system in not closing the shutters.

After rolling onto the floor, Takuma reacted to her shout.

Hastily, he stood up and turned to face where Maki was looking. But before he could make out the burglar, a mild shock ran across his features. By the time he realized something had been thrown at him, he was overtaken by an irresistible drowsiness and crumpled to the floor again.

“Takuma?!”

Because she immediately covered her mouth with her sleeve, the cry Maki gave turned into a muffled one. She had an idea as to the reason Takuma had passed out. She’d been shown the real thing alongside a prop once. What Takuma had taken in the face was a sponge ball loaded with an extremely fast-acting sleep drug. It wasn’t the kind he’d wake up from in five or ten minutes, either.

Fighting her fear, Maki turned back toward the veranda. The sliding door and curtains were already closed. In front of them stood a figure all in black, including a black mask, with what looked like folded wings on his back—looking just like a mystery man from an old movie who was based on a bat. If he’d had wings on the sides of the mask, he’d have been perfect. The outfit was actually stealth gear using EM-absorbing fabrics, but there was no way for Maki to know that.

“My lady, are you all right?!”

Then, finally, her two bodyguards burst into the living room. Right as the wings on the mystery man’s back fell to the floor. No sooner had they seen that than the two female bodyguards sprang toward the burglar.

Had he only brought one sleeping-drug ball? The thief in black didn’t move from his spot and intercepted the women. Her bodyguards were holding indoor-combat-use clubs in each hand. These weren’t simple sticks or police batons—their grips made of flexible material and their weight frontloaded on their tips wrapped in rubber, they were weapons that could also function as blackjacks.

A club swung down, and the mystery man calmly stopped it. Not with his arm, but with his palm, wrapped in a glove.

By taking a step forward and to the side, one bodyguard entered the blind spot provided by the other and placed herself in a position so that only one of her two clubs would reach. Because of this, there was now only one club he’d have to defend against. By stopping that one, he restricted the enemy’s movements, and he launched a fist toward the bodyguard whose escape was now cut off.

The female bodyguard was easily sent flying.

The other bodyguard flinched as the combat force drew a straight line toward her.

The mystery man’s movements showed no mercy.

Black fists shot out, one after another.

Maki’s bodyguards were disabled, unable to even scratch him.

The mystery man walked in front of Maki, who had slumped on the sofa after her knees gave out, and spoke in a voice she remembered.

“Would you mind fixing your clothes?”

Maki then remembered she was in a half-naked state. Her dress was completely off, with only her sleeves left, and they didn’t do much to hide her. Her underwear was still performing its duty, but traces of her previous phase were written in spots here and there on her exposed skin.

“Oh, but do you want me to put my clothes back on?”

Using all her strength to control her body and keep it from shaking madly, she started to use the coquettish acting directors had lambasted her endlessly for when she was still a new actress. If this mystery man was the boy she thought he was, then he’d fly right into her arms. She didn’t know what he was after, but if they exchanged feelings, she was confident she could bring this in a direction that benefited her.

But her scheme stumbled on the first step. No, it didn’t even have time to take that first step.

“Of course. Though if you insist, I do not mind.”

Maki felt like someone had poured ice water over her head. A cold rage at her pride being wounded overrode her cowardice. With an irritated expression, she fixed herself up.

“…Is this fine with you? How long are you going to wear that thing, anyway? It doesn’t look good on you, Tatsuya Shiba.”

Her disdainful tone as she said “that thing” referred to the black mask Tatsuya, disguised as a bat-man, was wearing—which was actually a newly developed helmet of flexible material. Of course, what she’d really wanted to say was the name Tatsuya Shiba. In other words, it was to tell him she knew who he was. But even with his expression hidden behind the mask, Maki could tell plain as day that Tatsuya wasn’t the least bit bothered—no, she was made to understand—

“Then let’s move on to our negotiations.”

—by the fact that Tatsuya ignored her provocation with extreme ease.

“Negotiations? What on earth are you after?”

Maki wasn’t hung up on her own pride. She was well aware that she was the weaker party in this situation. She knew from the previous scene that violence wouldn’t be a match for him. Her womanly weapons didn’t seem to be much help, either. She realized her options at the moment were extremely limited.

“First, please listen to this.”

That his choice of words was polite, like normal, bothered her. But that was utterly trivial up against the voices Tatsuya played from the terminal in his hand.

It was the voices of her and Takuma as they were entangled on the sofa.

“You were eavesdropping?! You creep!” Maki cried out despite herself, even though, considering the situation, such an insult wouldn’t do her any favors. She thought Damn it! that very instant, but she couldn’t suppress the ire in her mind.

“It would be a problem if this were to leak to the media.”

But when Tatsuya stopped the playback and said that, Maki’s mind passed through coldness and simply froze.

“There has been similar news recently… Even an idol past her prime can cause disturbances like that, so what about a beautiful actress who is, in fact, in her pri—”

“What do you want?!” shouted Maki hysterically, interrupting Tatsuya. She was angrier at herself for being so careless earlier than at the boy in front of her, who had come to her with a cowardly threat.

“I have two demands.”

A calm voice, in contrast with Maki’s, his uninterested baritone fostered anxiety in her.

“First, please cut off relations with Shippou. Oh, and I’m not referring to those relations, so please don’t pretend you don’t understand.”

“Fine!” agreed Maki in a sulky voice, having been warned in advance when she had, in fact, been about to go on the evasive using such an interpretation.

“Second, please don’t interfere with anyone high school–aged or below.”

“…What do you mean by that?”

Maki wasn’t playing dumb; she genuinely didn’t understand what Tatsuya was after with that demand. She knew what the words meant, but not why he was demanding something like that from her.

“I don’t know exactly what you’re planning to do. It may actually be something that benefits magicians, but I don’t have any interest in that. I’d just like you to stop disrupting things in my general vicinity.”

“What…?” She looked back at the black-masked young man with a blank look.

“College students and older are adults themselves, so I don’t intend to interfere with whatever you do with regards to them. As long as it doesn’t disadvantage me. Will you accept these demands?”

“Y-yes… If that’s all you want, then yes.”

She felt taken aback. He’d pretended to break in and rob her just for that?

And that made it all the more uncanny. Unlawful entrance, acts of violence, and threats. If what he was doing came to light in a court of law, they’d definitely be considered serious crimes. And he had no hesitation in doing them anyway for something as trivial as this.

Realization dawned on her. This boy doesn’t fear the law, doesn’t fear the state’s authority…

“Who are you…?” she asked with much trepidation. Reason was telling her it was better not to ask, but she couldn’t help herself. This night was the first time someone with an unknown identity had ever caused her such unease.

“When I confirm your enactment of my demands, I will erase this voice data.”

Her question didn’t receive an answer.

“You have my thanks for making this negotiation worthwhile.”

Putting the things that looked like folded wings onto his back again, he gave a contemptuously nonchalant remark and exited onto the veranda.

In haste, Maki followed after him.

But the boy garbed in black clothes had abruptly vanished from the veranda.

Tatsuya confirmed Maki peering down from the veranda from above before pulling his head back.

He was standing on the apartment complex’s roof. His initial plan had been to use his foldable glider to descend to the ground, but he’d changed it after noticing a suspicious silhouette in the night sky.

The black shadow was a small aircraft. For a moment, he thought it was the stealth airship belonging to a certain department of the JDF’s intelligence bureau that had been involved with the incident some months ago, but the vessel’s shape immediately informed him that he was wrong. This was a commonplace type that media organizations and film companies used to record video from the sky. But it was painted all black, obviously for cloak-and-dagger uses. If a black video-shooting vessel was in the night sky, Tatsuya knew it could only be for sneak photography.

He called up Fujibayashi on his transmitter. “Lieutenant, do you have a read on the airship closing in on Maki Sawamura’s apartment building?”

“Yes, I have it. I’ve had it since you went into the actress’s room. I didn’t think it would descend like this, though.”

“Do you know who it belongs to, ma’am?”

“A TV station, based on its flight plan.”

The corporation Fujibayashi named was a local cable channel in the south Kanto region that mainly covered celebrity gossip. Its affiliations made it a rival of the TV studio Maki’s father had under his umbrella.

“Could they be going after a Maki Sawamura scandal?”

“I don’t think the chances are zero.”

Loathing had seeped into Fujibayashi’s voice; probably an emotional reaction to the act of secret photography.

“Lieutenant, can you turn off the psion radars in this area? Five minutes would be enough.”

“Are you going to stop them?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Meanwhile, Tatsuya had decided to interfere with their secret photography because he didn’t want his negotiations with Maki to go to waste. If Takuma was caught on camera in Maki’s room, then even if it wasn’t in the middle of certain acts, that would be enough of a scandal.

“Do it in three minutes, Specialist,” came the request from Sanada.

“Yes, sir.”

Taking his favorite CAD, the Silver Horn Custom Trident, in his right hand, he looked up at the airship just as the gondola door opened and a rope ladder was lowered.

They won’t stop at secret photography, they’re even going to break and enter? thought Tatsuya to himself, ignoring his own acts moments earlier, before activating a jump spell toward the gondola entrance.

Tatsuya didn’t understand the angry shouts directed at him as soon as he jumped into the aircraft. From their words he felt like it might have been a language from the East Asian mainland, but he had never learned either Pekingese or Cantonese.

But he knew right away the situation wasn’t what he’d expected. Obviously, these men were no TV reporters. They had guns—pointed at him.

Of course, Tatsuya wasn’t about to let them fire. He already had his Trident in standby mode in his right hand. He took zero extra time to switch his dismantling targets.

Five weapons were aimed at him.

Every one of them lost its form, and their pieces scattered about the gondola floor.

The reaction to his dismantling magic was a startlingly quick one.

The two on either end stuck their fists out toward Tatsuya. Brass-colored rings shone dully on their middle fingers. Psionic noise filled the gondola. Cast Jamming, propagated via antinite.

Two on the inside readied knives, then charged for him in the swaying gondola.

Tatsuya’s finger moved twice on his CAD.

His information structure–dismantling spell wiped out the Cast Jamming noise structure, and all five of the villains were pierced through both thighs and crumpled to the floor.

But that wasn’t the end of it. The man who had been standing in the middle—just before he fell, Tatsuya noticed him clenching his right hand.

Tatsuya dived out of the thrown-open gondola door into midair.

There was a flash and the sound of an explosion, and the aircraft went up in flames.

He knew, at least, that if he let it fall like that, there would be more to come. But he needed to prioritize something else right now. An airship falling on an apartment complex district would be a major tragedy.

Exposed to the blast winds, Tatsuya twisted his body around. He aimed his Trident CAD at the descending airship as its air bladder broke.

Falling while facing upward, he activated Mist Dispersion.

As he watched the airship wreckage vanish into dust, he called up an inertial control spell whose magic program was already recorded. A moment later, he felt a severe impact on his back.

Tatsuya had fallen onto the roof of a building outside Maki’s apartment complex. For all the building’s height and the short falling distance, the inertial control working though him was strong enough that it ended up being the glider on his back that cushioned his fall and managed to keep every bone in his body from breaking. Of course, if Regenerate hadn’t been working, he probably wouldn’t have ever walked again.

“Tatsuya, what happened?!”

Fujibayashi’s voice, audible through the transmitter, sounded considerably panicked.

“Unknown. I believe the TV station would have the clues, ma’am. That aircraft appears to have been hijacked.”

After adding, in a disconsolate voice, that maybe it hadn’t been a hijack and maybe the TV station was in on it, Tatsuya picked himself up off the roof, from which the traces of his fall had been erased.

Robert Sun’s failure in the Maki Sawamura raid operation became known very quickly to Gongjin Zhou. A subordinate who was standing by, the one he would have sent to the traitor with photographs of his daughter’s murder had the operation succeeded, had informed him of it.

A falling, flaming airship vanished into thin air… The only person who could do that is…

Unfortunately, they hadn’t been able to take any pictures. His subordinate’s report was a noncommittal one as well, but Zhou correctly deduced who had interfered in the operation from the fact that the ship had disappeared in midair.

…Detestable. That man again?

Still, he only knew who the man was by his visage, the helmet covering his face, and his nicknames, Demon Right and Maheśvara. The invasion forces under Zhou’s control during the Yokohama Incident had met a terrible end at the hands of this unidentified magician, too. One could even say that the huge blow they’d taken from Maheśvara had been a major factor in their invasion operation’s failure.

The damage that the GAA forces had sustained during the Yokohama Incident in and of itself wasn’t the least bit inconvenient for Zhou. He’d always hoped for the Japanese and GAA militaries to take each other down. Contrary to his plans, it had ended in one-sided victory for the Japanese, but in a way, a weakened GAA was exactly what he’d been after.

This time, though, he couldn’t smile the matter away.

It looks like we’ll need to seriously go after his identity.

At the same time, he felt the need to change the direction of the media manipulation he was in the middle of.

When all’s said and done, Master’s true wishes were to exact revenge against those who destroyed Dahan… My real target isn’t an abstract notion of Japan’s magicians as a group, but that one clan.

And Zhou knew someone influential with very special feelings toward that clan.

It won’t be much—it certainly won’t cause a family split—but there’s no harm in giving it a try.

Zhou lowered his eyes to his glass of wine, which he hadn’t drunk from yet, and began to assemble a plan in his mind.