The warehouse crouched in the shadow of a derelict rail station in Metro Manila, its rusted girders clawing at a sky choked with early dawn fog. Dust swirled in the half-light, stirred by the faint hum of mana threading through cracked concrete. The air was heavy—stale oil, corroded iron, and the sharp bite of ozone from active CADs. A single sodium lamp flickered above, casting jagged shadows that danced across the walls like specters.
Footsteps echoed, deliberate and soft, as five figures emerged from the mist. Their silhouettes were sharp against the gloom—cloaks and tactical gear blending into the haze, CADs glinting faintly at wrists, hips, and shoulders. The Ten Master Clans had arrived.
Shigenobu Kudou, elder of the Kudou clan, stepped forward first, his silver hair catching the lamp's glow. His cane tapped the floor, not for support but as a metronome for his thoughts. His eyes, narrowed and cold, scanned the warehouse like a predator mapping terrain. His gauntlet CAD pulsed faintly, green runes humming with restrained power.
Behind him, Reiko Fujibayashi, her dark braid coiled tight, moved with a sniper's grace. Her HUD visor cast a faint blue glow across her face, data scrolling as she tracked the perimeter for IFRP signatures. Her voice was a low murmur, barely disturbing the dust.
"No guards. No drones. This place is a dead zone."
Her fingers brushed the dagger CAD at her thigh, its violet sigils flickering like a held breath.
Next to her, Tetsuo Itsuka, broad-shouldered and grim, adjusted his vambrace CAD. Its amber runes pulsed once, then dimmed, as if mirroring his restraint. His jaw was set, his gaze fixed on a rusted crate in the corner, but his mind was elsewhere—on the Emperor's daughter, Gabriella Mendez.
Hanae Mitsui, petite but unyielding, stood with her arms crossed, her ring CAD glowing softly with crimson light. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes darting between her companions, calculating risks, exits, outcomes. She spoke first, her voice sharp but quiet, cutting through the warehouse's stillness.
"We don't have much time. The finals are tonight. If we're moving on Gabriella, it has to be clean. No traces."
The fifth figure, Daichi Nakura, leaned against a pillar, his long coat pooling around him like ink. His wrist CAD, etched with silver runes, hummed faintly as he tilted his head, his voice low and smooth, almost amused.
"Clean? Abducting the Emperor's heir in the middle of the SEA Games? That's a tall order, Mitsui."
His eyes glinted, catching the lamp's flicker. "But I like tall orders."
Shigenobu's cane tapped once, sharp and final. The sound echoed like a gavel.
"Gabriella's the key. Mendez's invasion hinges on her safety. If we hold her, we hold his leash." His voice was gravel, worn by decades of command. "But we need an edge. The IFRP's palace is a fortress—guards, wards, and ManaTech sensors on every door."
Reiko's visor flickered, her fingers pausing over her dagger. "That's where Fuyumi Nakamura comes in." Her tone was clipped, efficient. "She's a Fourth High student, Marauoy branch. Still active. Still loyal to the Clans, if we play it right."
Tetsuo's amber vambrace pulsed as he shifted, his voice a low rumble. "You're sure she'll turn? She's been in Mendez's system for years. That's a lot of time to forget old ties."
Reiko's lips twitched, not quite a smile. "She hasn't forgotten. I reached her last night—encrypted line, no trace. She's willing to talk. And she's got something we need."
Hanae's ring CAD flared briefly, crimson light casting shadows across her sharp features. "What's her angle? A Fourth High student doesn't just hand us the Emperor's daughter without a price."
Reiko pulled a slim holo-tab from her coat, its screen glowing with a transcript. She tapped it, and Fuyumi's voice—tinny but clear—spilled into the warehouse, recorded from their call.
Fuyumi Nakamura's voice crackled through the holo-tab, tight with urgency but steady, like a blade held just out of sight.
"I know what you're planning. Gabriella Mendez. The palace. You want to stop the invasion before it starts." A pause, the faint hum of a CAD in the background. "I can help. I know the IFRP guard rotations, the ward frequencies. I've been in their systems since I enrolled."
Her tone sharpened, edged with something personal. "But I'm not just handing you the keys. The Salcedo siblings—Sallie and Celeste—they're the real problem. Mendez's decree. If they win the finals, Sallie gets his shot at Tatsuya Shiba. That's the spark for Japan."
Another pause, her breath catching slightly. "I can stop them. I've got intel—Fourth High's playbook, their sync patterns, Sallie's CAD morph triggers. I'll feed it to Fourteenth High, the San Sebastian branch. Their team's still in the finals—illusionists, subtle but vicious. They can break the Salcedos' rhythm if they know where to hit."
Her voice dropped, colder now. "But you need to move fast. The finals are tonight. If Sallie wins, Mendez sends him to Japan. And I'm not letting that happen. Not to my home."
The holo-tab clicked off. Silence settled, heavy as the dust.
Daichi let out a low whistle, his coat rustling as he straightened. "She's bold. Handing us Gabriella and sabotaging the Salcedos? That's a two-front war."
Hanae's eyes narrowed, her ring CAD pulsing once. "She's a student. Not a soldier. Can we trust her to deliver?"
Reiko's visor flickered, data scrolling as she cross-referenced Fuyumi's file. "She's clean. No IFRP flags, no ManaTech ties. Her family's old Kudou blood, distant but loyal. She's been feeding us scraps for months—guard schedules, tech specs. This is her stepping up."
Tetsuo's vambrace hummed, amber light catching the scars on his knuckles. "And the Fourteenth High angle? Feeding them intel to take down the Salcedos—how's she pulling that off without blowing her cover?"
Reiko's fingers traced her dagger's hilt, her voice steady. "She's already in their network. Fourth High's training logs aren't locked tight—Marauoy's systems are a mess. She's got access to their sparring data, sync metrics, even Sallie's CAD calibration logs. She's passing it as a 'leak' to Fourteenth High's coach, anonymous. They think it's a defector's gift."
Shigenobu's cane tapped again, slower this time, his eyes glinting like steel under frost. "Clever girl. But if she's caught, Mendez will have her head. And ours."
Daichi leaned forward, his silver runes pulsing faintly. "Then we keep her clean. She's our way into the palace. Gabriella's guarded by three layers of ManaTech wards—Fuyumi's got the bypass codes. We get in, we get out, no blood."
Hanae's lips curled, skeptical. "No blood? This is Mendez's daughter. The IFRP won't just let us walk her out. And if Fourteenth High fails to stop the Salcedos, we're still staring down Sallie's Japan gambit."
Tetsuo's voice cut through, low and deliberate. "Then we hedge our bets. Fuyumi's intel gives Fourteenth High a shot to break Sallie's sync. If they pull it off, the finals collapse, Mendez's decree stalls, and we've got Gabriella as leverage to shut down the invasion entirely."
Reiko nodded, her visor dimming as she pocketed the holo-tab. "Fuyumi's already moving. She sent the first batch of intel to Fourteenth High an hour ago—Sallie's morph triggers, Celeste's tether cast times. Their illusionists are fast learners. They'll weave a trap to disrupt the Salcedos' rhythm."
Shigenobu's cane stopped mid-tap. He turned, his gaze sweeping the group, heavy with the weight of command. "And Gabriella? How do we take her without turning Manila into a warzone?"
Reiko's fingers tightened on her dagger, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Fuyumi's got us the guard schedule for tonight—post-finals, when the palace is distracted. Two IFRP squads, eight operatives total, all ManaTech-equipped. The wards are layered but static. Her codes will drop the outer ring for six minutes. We move in, neutralize the guards non-lethally, and extract Gabriella before the second ring resets."
Daichi's lips twitched, almost a smirk. "Non-lethally? You're feeling generous, Fujibayashi."
Reiko's eyes didn't waver. "We're not here to start a war. We're here to stop one. Gabriella's our bargaining chip, not a body count."
Hanae's ring flared again, crimson light painting her face in sharp
relief. "And if Fuyumi's wrong? If her codes fail or Fourteenth High botches the finals? Sallie wins, goes to Japan, and we're holding a princess with no leverage."
Tetsuo's vambrace pulsed, his voice a low growl. "Then we adapt. Fuyumi's intel is our edge, but we don't bank on it. We prep for a fight—Sallie, Celeste, or Mendez's goons. If Fourteenth High fails, we still take Gabriella. The Clans don't flinch."
Shigenobu's cane tapped once more, final, like a judge's gavel. "Then it's settled. Fujibayashi, you handle Fuyumi's line. Keep her secure, keep her quiet. Mitsui, Itsuka, you're on extraction prep—map the palace, test the ward codes. Nakura, you're our eyes outside. If the IFRP or ManaTech twitch, we need to know."
Daichi nodded, his coat shifting as he adjusted his wrist CAD. "I've got contacts in Tondo. Bettors talk. If Mendez's rat moves, I'll hear it."
Hanae's eyes flicked to Reiko, her voice sharp. "And Fuyumi's intel on the Salcedos—how sure is she it'll work? Fourteenth High's illusionists are good, but Sallie's chaos isn't exactly predictable."
Reiko's visor flickered, pulling up a schematic of Sallie's briefcase CAD. "Fuyumi's got his morph triggers down to the millisecond—0.8 seconds per shift, tied to specific mana thresholds. Celeste's tethers are trickier, but she's mapped their cast patterns. Fourteenth High's illusionists can layer false triggers to throw off their sync. If they execute, Sallie's CAD will misfire, and Celeste's tethers will lag."
Tetsuo's jaw tightened. "And if they don't execute? Sallie's not just fast—he's adaptive. We saw what he did to Trixie."
Reiko's lips pressed thin. "That's why Fuyumi's staying live. She's feeding Fourteenth High updates during the match. If Sallie shifts tactics, she'll adjust the intel."
Shigenobu's eyes narrowed, his cane resting still against the concrete. "Then we move on both fronts. Nakamura sabotages the Salcedos. We take Gabriella. Mendez's invasion dies before it leaves Manila."
The warehouse fell silent, the sodium lamp flickering overhead. Dust settled, disturbed only by the faint hum of their CADs. Outside, the fog thickened, swallowing the rail station's rusted skeleton.
——
The sun hung low over Manila, its amber glow bleeding through the smog and casting long shadows across the cracked asphalt outside the Mall of Asia Arena. Inside a dimly lit auxiliary gym, tucked behind the main stadium, the air was thick with the tang of sweat and the faint hum of mana-charged steel. The walls, scarred from years of practice duels, bore faint scorch marks and the ghosts of old runes. A single overhead light flickered, painting the room in stuttering gold.
Fourteenth High's team—representing the former San Sebastian College Recoletos—stood in their orange-and-yellow uniforms, the colors vivid against the gym's grime. Their silhouettes moved with purpose, sharp and deliberate, as they prepped for the SEA Games grand finals.
Clara Escueta, wiry and intense, adjusted the brass knuckles CAD on her right hand. Its bronze runes pulsed faintly, like embers waiting to flare. Her short-cropped hair stuck to her sweat-damp forehead, and her amber eyes flicked restlessly, scanning the room as if threats might materialize from the shadows. Her uniform, pristine despite the humidity, hugged her frame, the orange collar sharp against her jaw.
Beside her, Liana Salamat tested the weight of her rapier CAD, its silver blade catching the light with each precise swing. The hilt's indigo runes shimmered, humming softly as she moved through a series of fluid strikes, her long braid swaying like a metronome. Her yellow sash gleamed, untouched by the gym's dust, and her calm, dark eyes betrayed a focus that cut deeper than her blade.
The gym door creaked open, a faint draft stirring the air. Fuyumi Nakamura stepped inside, her Fourth High uniform—blue-and-red, slightly rumpled—clashing with the orange-and-yellow space. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight bun, and her HUD glasses cast a faint green glow across her sharp features. Her wrist CAD, a sleek band etched with violet runes, hummed quietly, almost imperceptibly. She carried a holo-tab, its screen dim but active, clutched against her chest like a shield.
Clara's knuckles tightened around her CAD, the bronze runes flaring briefly. Her voice was low, edged with suspicion. "You're Nakamura, right? Fourth High, Marauoy branch. What's a Japan girl doing here?"
Liana paused mid-swing, her rapier lowering slightly, its indigo runes dimming as her eyes locked onto Fuyumi. "You're far from your team's prep room," she said, her tone calm but probing, like a blade testing a gap in armor. "Finals are in three hours. Shouldn't you be with the Salcedos?"
Fuyumi's lips pressed into a thin line, her HUD glasses flickering as she adjusted her stance. Her English was crisp, fluent, with a faint Tokyo lilt. "I'm not here for Fourth High. I'm here for you." She held up the holo-tab, its screen flashing a schematic of Sallie Salcedo's briefcase CAD. "I've got something you need."
Clara stepped forward, her brass knuckles glinting under the flickering light. "You're the one who sent the intel. Sallie's morph triggers, Celeste's tether patterns." Her amber eyes narrowed, searching Fuyumi's face.
"Why? Why's Fourth High leaking their own playbook?"
Fuyumi's jaw tightened, her fingers brushing the violet runes on her wrist CAD. "It's not Fourth High. It's me." Her voice was steady, but a flicker of heat broke through. "I'm giving you the edge to stop the Salcedo siblings. Their sync—98.1%, their CAD morphs, their cast times—I've mapped it all. You can break them in the finals."
Liana's rapier stilled completely, her braid settling against her back. She tilted her head, her dark eyes unreadable but sharp. "You're Japanese. You know what's at stake. Mendez's decree—Sallie wins, he gets a shot at Tatsuya Shiba. Why betray your own team to stop that?"
Fuyumi's glasses flared, data scrolling across the lenses as she stepped closer, her voice dropping to a fierce whisper. "Because I'm Japanese. Shiba's a fortress, a legend. If Sallie wins, Mendez sends him to Japan, and that's the spark for invasion. My home doesn't need a war. I'm giving you the tools to shut them down—before they even get close."
Clara's knuckles cracked as she flexed her hand, the bronze CAD humming low. Her lips curled, not quite a smirk but close. "You're risking a lot, Nakamura. If Mendez's people catch you leaking, you're done. Why not just let the finals play out? Sallie's chaos isn't guaranteed to win."
Fuyumi's eyes flashed, her HUD glasses dimming as she locked onto Clara. "Because it's not just about the finals. It's about what comes after. Sallie and Celeste—they're Mendez's spearhead. Their sync, their CADs—it's not just skill. It's engineered for war. If they take the Pinnacle, Mendez's invasion starts, and Japan pays the price."
Liana's rapier tilted slightly, its indigo runes pulsing as she stepped forward, her voice soft but cutting. "Your intel's good. Sallie's morph cycle—0.8 seconds, triggered by mana spikes. Celeste's tethers—1.2 seconds to bind. We can use that. Our illusions can fake those triggers, throw off their rhythm." She paused, her eyes narrowing. "But you're not telling us everything. What's your real stake in this?"
Fuyumi's fingers tightened on the holo-tab, its screen flickering with Sallie's CAD schematics—green runes, morph sequences, sync data. Her voice hardened, each word deliberate. "My stake is Japan. My family's still there. My blood's still there. If Sallie gets to Shiba, it's not just a duel—it's a signal. Mendez will move, and the Clans won't be enough to stop him. I'm giving you the chance to break their momentum now."
Clara's amber eyes flicked to the holo-tab, then back to Fuyumi. Her voice was rough, skeptical. "You're handing us a loaded gun, but you're still Fourth High. If we use your intel and win, Mendez's decree shifts. Fourteenth High takes the Pinnacle, and we get the shot at Shiba." Her lips twitched, a spark of defiance igniting. "You think that stops the invasion? Even if Sallie loses, Mendez will still push for Japan. And we'll get our chance at Tatsuya, too."
Fuyumi froze. Her HUD glasses flickered, the green glow stuttering as Clara's words sank in. Her breath caught, and her violet runes flared briefly, betraying the fury rising in her chest.
"You think this is a game?" Her voice was low, almost a growl, the Tokyo lilt sharpening into a blade.
"You think beating Sallie just swaps one invader for another? Shiba's not a trophy. He's a force. If Mendez sends anyone—Sallie, you, anyone—it's war. My home burns."
Liana's rapier lowered, its tip grazing the gym's cracked floor. Her dark eyes softened, but her voice stayed firm. "We're not your enemy, Fuyumi. We'll take your intel. We'll use it. Our fantasy can disrupt Sallie's morphs, make Celeste's tethers misfire. But Clara's right—Mendez's invasion doesn't hinge on one team. If we win, we're still his cadets. The decree could fall to us."
Fuyumi's jaw clenched, her glasses flashing as she swiped the holo-tab, pulling up a new schematic—Celeste's tether cast patterns, layered with Fourteenth High's illusion frequencies. "Then use this to win clean," she said, her voice tight, barely containing the heat. "Break their sync. Make it undeniable. If Fourteenth High takes the Pinnacle, Mendez's focus shifts. The Clans can use that chaos to stop him before he moves on Japan."
Clara stepped closer, her brass knuckles CAD humming, bronze runes casting faint sparks across the gym's floor. "You're betting a lot on us, Nakamura. Our illusions are good—layered, subtle, fast. But Sallie's chaos? Celeste's precision? That's a storm we can't just outrun." Her amber eyes locked onto Fuyumi's, searching for cracks. "You're sure this intel's enough?"
Fuyumi's gaze didn't waver. She tapped the holo-tab, sending the data to Clara's HUD with a faint chime. "It's enough. Sallie's CAD triggers at specific mana thresholds—200 megajoules for a morph shift. Fake those with your abilities, and he'll misfire. Celeste's tethers rely on predictive targeting—disrupt her HUD with layered decoys, and she'll bind the wrong vectors. You've got three hours to drill this."
Liana's rapier twirled once, a fluid arc that ended with the blade pointed down, its indigo runes steady. "We'll drill it. Our illusions can weave false mana spikes, throw off their sync. But if we pull this off, Fuyumi, you're in deep. Mendez's people will hunt for the leak. You ready for that?"
Fuyumi's lips curled, not into a smile but a grim resolve. "I've been dodging IFRP audits since I was sixteen. I'm ready." Her violet runes pulsed once, sharp and defiant. "Just make sure you hit the Salcedos where it hurts. Stop them before they reach Shiba. Stop them before Mendez lights the fuse."
Fuyumi's eyes darkened, her HUD glasses dimming as she turned toward the door.
"Then Do it for whatever you want. Just do it." Her voice was a whisper now, laced with fury and something heavier—grief, maybe, for a home she couldn't protect alone. She stepped into the shadows, her footsteps fading as the gym door creaked shut.
Clara and Liana exchanged a glance, the holo-tab's schematics glowing between them. The orange-and-yellow of their uniforms caught the flickering light, their CADs humming with the weight of what was coming. The finals loomed, and the gym's air seemed to tighten, as if the walls themselves knew the storm was about to break.
The auxiliary gym's door creaked shut behind Fuyumi Nakamura, the sound swallowed by the hum of Manila's distant traffic and the faint buzz of mana-charged lights. The cracked asphalt outside glistened under a sodium streetlamp, slick with evening dew. Clara Escueta and Liana Salamat, still in their orange-and-yellow uniforms, exchanged a quick glance—Clara's amber eyes sharp with suspicion, Liana's dark gaze steady but curious. Without a word, they followed Fuyumi, their boots crunching softly on the grit-strewn path.
Fuyumi moved fast, her Fourth High blue-and-red uniform a blur as she rounded a rusted shipping container near the arena's backlot. Her HUD glasses cast a faint green glow, her wrist CAD's violet runes pulsing faintly as she clutched her holo-tab. She didn't notice the footsteps trailing her until Clara's voice cut through the humid air.
"Hey, Nakamura. Hold up."
Fuyumi froze, her shoulders tensing. She turned slowly, glasses flickering as she sized them up. "What do you want?" Her English was sharp, the Tokyo lilt clipped with irritation. "I gave you the intel. Go drill."
Clara stepped forward, brass knuckles CAD glinting under the streetlamp, bronze runes humming low. "We're not done talking. You're real eager to screw over the Salcedos. Why's Tatsuya Shiba such a big deal to you? What's got you so hellbent on keeping Sallie away from him?"
Liana leaned against the container, her rapier CAD resting loose in her hand, indigo runes steady. "Yeah, spill it. Is Shiba some untouchable god or what? Why's he got you acting like this is life or death?"
Fuyumi's jaw tightened, her glasses flashing as she swiped the holo-tab to dark. She took a step back, her voice low, controlled, but edged with something raw. "You don't get it, do you? Shiba's not just 'good.' He's a walking catastrophe."
Clara crossed her arms, her knuckles cracking against her CAD. "Catastrophe? Come on. He's a Strategic-Class magician, sure. We've read the files. Elemental Sight, Decomposition, Regrowth—big deal. Sallie's a beast with that briefcase. Why's Shiba got you spooked?"
Fuyumi's eyes narrowed, her violet runes flaring briefly. "You think Sallie's chaos can touch him? Shiba doesn't fight like a cadet. He doesn't even fight like a soldier. He's a one-man arsenal." She paused, her voice dropping colder. "Back in '23, he took out a Saegusa strike team—twelve elites, full CAD loadouts—in under a minute. Didn't break a sweat. Their spells didn't even land."
Liana's rapier twitched in her grip, her brow furrowing. "A minute? That's hype. No one's that fast."
"It's not hype." Fuyumi's voice was flat, like she was reciting a death toll. "I saw the footage—classified, before you ask. Shiba's Elemental Sight sees every mana particle in a kilometer radius. He tracks spells before they're cast. Decomposition? He can dissolve your CAD's mana field in a blink. You're standing there, weapon dead, before you know what hit you."
Clara shifted her weight, her knuckles humming louder. "Okay, so he's a freak. But Sallie's got tricks—morphs in 0.8 seconds, syncs with Celeste like they're one brain. You're saying that's not enough?"
Fuyumi's lips pressed thin, her glasses dimming as she stared them down. "It's not about tricks. Shiba's not a puzzle you solve. He's a wall you don't climb. His Regrowth can heal fatal wounds in seconds—himself, his team, doesn't matter. You hit him, he's back before you reload. And if Mendez sends Sallie to Japan, Shiba won't just beat him. He'll erase him. And that's the signal for war."
Liana's rapier lowered slightly, her dark eyes flicking to Clara, then back to Fuyumi. "War? You're saying one duel could kick off an invasion? That's a stretch, Nakamura."
Fuyumi's voice turned sharp, almost a hiss. "It's not a stretch. It's Mendez's plan. Sallie wins the finals, he gets the decree—face Shiba, prove the IFRP's strength. If Shiba falls, Japan's defenses crack. Mendez moves in. If Sallie loses, Mendez uses the loss to justify a bigger push. Either way, my home's the battlefield."
Clara's eyes widened slightly, her CAD's bronze runes flickering like they felt her pulse spike. "Shit. You're not just worried about Sallie losing. You're worried about what happens if he gets close."
"Exactly." Fuyumi's voice was ice now, her holo-tab clutched tight. "Shiba's not just a magician. He's Japan's shield. The Clans—my people—will do anything to protect him. If Sallie steps into that ring, it's not a fight. It's a declaration. And Japan won't wait for Mendez to land the first punch."
Liana's grip tightened on her rapier, the indigo runes pulsing once. "So that's why you're leaking intel. You're not just saving Japan—you're saving Sallie from getting vaporized."
Fuyumi's gaze snapped to her, sharp and unyielding. "I'm not saving Sallie. I'm saving everyone. If he wins tonight, Mendez sends him to Shiba. If you win, the decree shifts, and maybe—maybe—the Clans can stop Mendez before he moves. But if you don't take this seriously, you're handing him Japan on a platter."
Clara let out a low whistle, her knuckles flexing. "Damn. That's heavy. Shiba sounds like a nightmare. No wonder you're risking your neck to stop this."
Liana's voice was quieter, but firm. "You're sure about this intel, Nakamura? If we use it and it backfires, we're the ones in the pit with the Salcedos. And if Shiba's as bad as you say, we're not exactly itching to take his place."
Fuyumi's glasses flared, data scrolling briefly before she shut it down. "The intel's solid. Sallie's CAD hits 200 megajoules to morph—fake that spike, and he'll misfire. Celeste's tethers lock in 1.2 seconds—layer your illusions to disrupt her HUD, and she'll miss her vectors. You've got the tools. Use them."
Clara nodded slowly, her amber eyes still locked on Fuyumi. "Alright. We'll drill it. But you better not be playing us. If this goes south, you're not the only one Mendez will come for."
Fuyumi's lips curled, not a smile but a grim acknowledgment. "I know the risks. Just make sure you hit the Salcedos where it hurts. Stop them tonight, or we're all in deeper than you think."
She turned, her boots scuffing the asphalt as she walked back toward the arena's glow, leaving Clara and Liana in the flickering light. Their CADs hummed softly, the weight of Fuyumi's words settling like cold steel in their spines.
Clara glanced at Liana, her voice low. "She's scared. Not for herself—for what Shiba could do."
Liana's rapier twirled once, a reflex to steady her nerves. "Yeah. And if she's right, we're not just fighting for the Pinnacle. We're fighting to keep this from blowing up bigger than Manila."
They turned back toward the gym, the orange-and-yellow of their uniforms catching the streetlamp's glow, their steps heavier now, as if the shadow of Tatsuya Shiba loomed larger than the finals themselves.
---
The restaurant, a cramped, neon-lit joint in Pasay, buzzed with the chaos of Fourth High's victory party. The air was thick with the sizzle of sisig on hot plates, the sharp tang of calamansi, and the low hum of mana-charged holo-screens replaying the SEA Games semifinals. Tables were littered with San Mig bottles and crumpled napkins, the walls plastered with faded IFRP posters and Fourth High banners—blue-and-red, tattered but proud. The crowd, mostly Fourth High cadets, roared with every replay of Sallie and Celeste Salcedo's Twin Tempest Shot, the green-and-silver arrow shattering Trixie Saavedra's Aegis on loop.
Sallie Mae Salcedo slouched in a corner booth, his blue-and-red uniform a mess—torn sleeve, mana-singed collar, dust streaked across the chest. His briefcase CAD, slung over the chair, pulsed faintly with green runes, like a heartbeat winding down. He grinned, lazy and sharp, spinning his calibrator between his fingers as he nursed a half-empty bottle of Red Horse. His sweat-damp bangs clung to his forehead, but his eyes sparkled with the high of the win.
Celeste Marie Salcedo sat across from him, posture rigid, her singed uniform still crisp at the edges. Her grimoire CAD rested on the table, silver sigils dim but restless, reflecting the neon glow. Her violet eyes scanned the room, calm but calculating, her HUD visor tucked into her pocket. She sipped a glass of iced calamansi juice, the condensation dripping onto her fingers, but she didn't flinch.
Angela Castillo, their teammate, leaned back next to Sallie, her maroon-trimmed uniform less battered but still marked by the pit's chaos. Her tome CAD, clipped at her hip, hummed softly, its amber runes catching the light. She laughed, loud and unfiltered, as a group of Fourth High cadets swarmed the booth, their blue-and-red scarves waving like battle flags.
"Sallie! Celeste! You guys owned Third High!" a lanky cadet shouted, his voice cracking with excitement. He slammed a fist on the table, rattling the bottles. "That Twin Tempest? Man, Trixie didn't see it coming!"
A girl with a blue headband, her HUD glasses flashing replays, squealed and grabbed Angela's arm. "Celeste, those tethers! You had Mateo locked down like a dog on a leash!"
Celeste's lips twitched, not quite a smile. "It was calculated," she said, her voice cool, precise. "Mateo's pulses were predictable once we mapped his frequency."
Sallie snorted, his calibrator spinning faster. "Yeah, and Trixie thought she could out-lance me. Should've known better." He took a swig of his beer, grinning wider as the cadets erupted again, chanting "SALLIE! CELESTE!" like a war cry.
Angela leaned forward, her amber runes flaring as she raised her glass. "To Fourth High, kicking ass and taking names!" The cadets roared, bottles clinking, scarves whipping through the air. The holo-screen looped Sallie's sledgehammer morph, concrete exploding as Trixie hit the wall.
The crowd parted slightly as a figure approached, her dark green-and-yellow uniform stark against the sea of blue-and-red. Trixie Andalucía Saavedra stood alone, her golden lance CAD clipped at her side, its molten runes dim but still humming. Her hair was loose, a faint bruise shadowing her jaw from the semifinals, but her eyes burned with a mix of respect and defiance. Dust clung to her uniform, a reminder of her crash through the pit's rebar.
The cadets quieted, their cheers fading into murmurs. Sallie leaned back, his calibrator stilling in his palm. Celeste's eyes flicked to Trixie, her glass pausing mid-sip. Angela raised an eyebrow, leaning forward like she was ready for round two.
Trixie stopped at the booth, her boots scuffing the tiled floor. She looked straight at Sallie, her voice steady, no trace of bitterness. "Nice work out there, Salcedo. You and Celeste—you're the real deal."
Sallie's grin softened, just a fraction. "Coming from you, Saavedra? That's high praise." He tilted his bottle toward her, the gesture casual but genuine. "You didn't make it easy."
Trixie's lips quirked, almost a smile. "Didn't plan to." She crossed her arms, her lance CAD glinting under the neon. "That Twin Tempest? Never saw it coming. You've got what it takes, Sallie. Japan's Strategic-Class magicians—Shiba, the others—they'd have to bring their A-game to match you."
The cadets around them stirred, whispers rippling. "Shiba?" "She's talking about Tatsuya?" Sallie's grin sharpened, his eyes narrowing slightly, like he was sizing up a new kind of fight. Celeste's fingers tightened around her glass, her violet eyes locked on Trixie, unreadable.
Angela leaned forward, her voice teasing but sharp. "You throwing Sallie to the wolves already, Trixie? Shiba's a myth. You really think our boy's ready for that?"
Trixie's gaze didn't waver, still fixed on Sallie. "He's ready. That briefcase of yours—it's not just chaos. It's strategy. You're not just fighting, you're rewriting the fight." She paused, her voice dropping lower.
"But if you're going toe-to-toe with Shiba, fix that uniform first. You look like you crawled out of a scrapyard. Show up clean, or they'll think you're a street punk, not a contender."
Sallie laughed, a sharp bark that cut through the restaurant's hum. He glanced down at his torn sleeve, the mana-singed collar.
"Yeah, I know. Gotta look sharp for the big leagues." He leaned forward, his calibrator spinning again, green runes catching the light.
"Already got a new one on order. Gotta rep Fourth High right, you know?"
Trixie nodded, her expression softening just enough to show respect. "Good. You'll need it. Shiba doesn't play games." She stepped back, her lance CAD humming faintly as she turned to leave.
"Don't choke in the finals, Salcedo. I'm not rooting for you, but I'm watching."
Sallie raised his bottle, his grin all teeth. "Wouldn't dream of it, Saavedra."
She walked away, her green-and-yellow uniform fading into the crowd as the Fourth High cadets erupted again, their cheers shaking the tables. The holo-screen flashed back to the Twin Tempest, the arrow's green-and-silver spiral lighting up the room. Celeste set her glass down, her sigils flickering once, her voice low as she leaned toward Sallie.
"She's right about the uniform," she said, her tone clipped but not unkind. "And about Shiba. If we win tonight, you need to be ready for what comes next."
Sallie's grin didn't fade, but his eyes hardened, the calibrator stilling in his hand. "I'm ready, sis. Let's take the Pinnacle first, then we'll worry about Japan."
Angela smirked, raising her glass again. "That's the spirit. Now let's eat before these clowns drink all the beer."
The cadets roared again, the restaurant shaking with their chants as the holo-screen looped the semifinals, Sallie's briefcase morphing, Celeste's tethers snapping, and the promise of the finals hanging heavy in the air.
The Pasay restaurant pulsed with Fourth High's victory high, the neon glow and sisig steam mixing with the roar of cadets chanting "SALLIE! CELESTE!" Holo-screens looped the semifinals' Twin Tempest Shot, green-and-silver mana shredding Trixie Saavedra's Aegis.
Sallie Mae Salcedo slouched in the booth, his tattered blue-and-red uniform clinging to his frame, briefcase CAD slung over the chair, green runes dim but humming. His calibrator spun lazily between his fingers, catching the light as he grinned, half-lost in thought.
"Man, those Tondo bettors who backed us?" he said, voice low but sharp, cutting through the crowd's noise.
"They're eating good tonight. Seven figures, probably, after we smoked Third High."
He leaned back, Red Horse bottle dangling from his hand. "Finals are gonna make 'em millionaires."
Celeste Marie Salcedo, sitting across, sipped her calamansi juice, her singed uniform crisp despite the chaos. Her grimoire CAD rested on the table, silver sigils cycling faintly. Her violet eyes flicked to Sallie, her voice cool. "Focus, Onii-sama. The finals are in two hours.
Fourteenth High's magicians won't be as predictable as Trixie."
Angela Castillo, sprawled next to Sallie, laughed, her maroon-trimmed uniform marked by pit dust. Her tome CAD's amber runes pulsed as she raised her glass.
"Let the bettors cash out. We're here for the Pinnacle, not their wallets." She smirked, nodding at the holo-screen.
"But yeah, they're feasting. Divisoria's probably throwing a street party."
Sallie's grin widened, but his eyes drifted, thoughts snagging on the bettors—Jolo, Lima, Rico—raking in credits in Tondo's dens and Quezon's rooftops. "They're gonna lose their minds when we take the finals," he muttered, calibrator spinning faster. "Wonder how much they'll drop on us against Fourteenth High."
The cadets around them erupted again, blue-and-red scarves whipping as a holo-screen replayed Sallie's sledgehammer morph. A lanky cadet slammed the table. "You're making us legends, Salcedo! Tondo's gonna name a street after you!"
Sallie laughed, but his mind shifted, already picturing the grand finals' end. "Bet they're hyping the next SEA Games already," he said, voice quieter, almost to himself. "Heard they're pushing for a battle royale format after this. No duels—just chaos. Drop in, grab weapons, last one standing."
Celeste's glass paused mid-sip, her eyes narrowing. "Battle royale? That's unrefined. Too many variables." Her sigils flickered, as if offended by the idea. "The Empire prefers structure. Duels test precision."
Angela leaned forward, smirking. "Sounds fun, though. Drop into some ruined district, scavenge CADs off the ground, blast everyone 'til you're the last team standing. Safe zone shrinking every minute? That's a bloodbath I'd watch."
Sallie's calibrator stilled, his grin turning sharp. "Yeah, but we're not in it. Fourth High's sending others for that. Heard it's Diego Ramos leading our team. Kid's a scrapper—fast, mean, loves a mess."
——
The Next Day
The grand finals pit is a massive arena, pulsing with bright lights and holographic displays. The stage is set with intricate designs, representing the power and skill of the competing schools. Sallie and Celeste stand confidently on one side, their blue and red scarves flying in the air, while Clara and Liana stand poised and focused on the other side.
The arena is packed with cheering spectators, their voices echoing off the walls and blending with the flashy lights and holographic screens showcasing the ongoing match. Four figures stand out in the center, their bodies adorned with sleek and advanced battle suits, each representing their respective schools. The crowd's attention is focused on the two dueling pairs, their movements quick and precise as they battle it out in the simulated arena.
The air was thick with the scent of excitement and adrenaline as the audience waited with bated breath. Mixed in was the familiar smell of popcorn and hotdogs from the concession stands, adding to the festive atmosphere.
High above, on a suspended platform, the announcer strode forward, his IFRP-branded suit glinting like polished steel. His holo-mic pulsed orange, mana-charged speakers amplifying his voice into a thunderclap that drowned the chaos. His boots stomped the platform, his grin wide and feral, feeding off the arena's pulse. He raised both arms, dragging the crowd's roar to a fever pitch.
"Ladies and gentlemen of the Imperial Federal Republic!" he roared, his voice a blade slicing through the din. "Welcome to the SEA Games Grand Finals—the clash that'll carve history into this pit! Two teams, one winner, and a whole lot of hell to unleash! This ain't just a duel—it's the Empire's crucible, where legends are forged and dreams get crushed!"
The arena detonated, the crowd's screams shaking the rafters. Blue-and-red scarves surged like a tide, orange-and-yellow banners snapping in defiance. The announcer paced, his mic crackling with mana, his eyes wild as he leaned into the chaos.
"Manila, you've seen blood, you've seen fire, and now you're about to see the pinnacle of magic and madness! This 2v2 Imperial Duel is the endgame—Fourth High versus Fourteenth High, and only one walks away with the Pinnacle! You ready for this?"
The crowd's roar hit like a shockwave, bottles clinking, feet stomping, mana sparks flaring like fireworks. The holo-screens zoomed in on the pit, capturing Sallie's spinning calibrator, Celeste's steady sigils, Clara's clenched knuckles, Liana's poised rapier.
The announcer spun, pointing to the Fourth High side, his voice dropping to a gritty snarl. "On the left, representing Fourth High, the Salcedo siblings—Sallie Mae and Celeste Marie! Sallie's briefcase CAD morphs faster than you can blink—shotgun, sledgehammer, longbow, you name it, he's got it! He's chaos with a grin, and he's here to burn the pit down!"
The Fourth High section exploded, blue-and-red scarves whipping through the air, cadets chanting "SALLIE! CELESTE!" like a war hymn. Sallie raised his calibrator, his grin widening, while Celeste stood unmoved, her sigils pulsing once.
"And Celeste Marie!" the announcer continued, his voice booming. "The spell queen with a grimoire that locks down fields like a vice! Her tethers tore Third High apart, and her sync with Sallie? 98.1%—that's a storm you don't outrun!"
The crowd roared louder, the holo-screens flashing Celeste's silver tethers strangling Mateo's pulses, Sallie's green runes morphing mid-fight.
The announcer pivoted, thrusting a hand toward the Fourteenth High side. "And on the right, from the former San Sebastian College Recoletos—Fourteenth High's Clara Escueta and Liana Salamat! Clara's brass knuckles hit like a freight train, her bronze runes packing enough punch to crack steel! She's a brawler with a brain, and she's hungry for blood!"
The Fourteenth High section surged, orange-and-yellow banners waving like flames, cadets screaming Clara's name. She flexed her knuckles, the bronze CAD flaring, her amber eyes never leaving Sallie.
"And Liana Salamat!" the announcer growled, his mic sparking. "Her rapier's a surgical strike—indigo runes, lightning-fast, cutting through illusions and defenses alike! These two weave illusions that'll make you question reality, and they're here to break the Salcedos' streak!"
The orange-and-yellow crowd roared, their chants clashing with Fourth High's, the arena a battlefield of noise. The holo-screens cut to Clara's knuckles shattering a practice dummy, Liana's rapier slicing through a mana field in a shower of sparks.
The announcer stepped back, his voice dropping to a low, menacing rumble. "Two teams. One winner. The Pinnacle's waiting, and this pit's about to catch fire. Get loud, Manila!"
The crowd's scream was deafening, shaking the steel beams. Popcorn flew, bottles toppled, and mana sparks streaked through the stands. The holo-screens zoomed in on the four cadets, their battle suits—sleek, mana-infused techweave—glinting under the lights, each crest a badge of their school's pride.
Two IFRP officials stepped onto the platform, their suits shimmering with imperial techweave, mana gauntlets glowing faintly at their wrists. The lead official, a woman with iron-gray hair and a scar tracing her jaw, raised her holo-mic, her voice cutting through the chaos like a blade.
"Cadets. Spectators. Warriors of the Empire." Her words landed with the weight of command, silencing the crowd to a low hum. "The SEA Games Grand Finals are no mere contest. They are a testament to the Imperial Federal Republic's strength. Fourth High's Sallie and Celeste Salcedo face Fourteenth High's Clara Escueta and Liana Salamat in a 2v2 Imperial Duel. Their skill, their sync, their will shall shape the future."
The second official, wiry and sharp-eyed, stepped forward, his gauntlet CAD humming. His voice was quieter but no less commanding. "You wield magic that can shift wars. Fight with honor. Fight without mercy. The Empire watches."
The mana barrier between the teams shimmered, its runes flickering as it began to thin. The holo-screens flashed the countdown: 10… 9… 8…
The Mall of Asia Arena's klaxon wailed, its piercing cry slicing through the roar of 30,000 spectators as the countdown hit 7.
The mana barrier dissolved, its glowing runes fading into the haze of ozone and sweat. The pit's steel rings pulsed with light, Fourth High's blue-and-red crest clashing with Fourteenth High's orange-and-yellow emblem under the holographic displays.
Sallie Mae Salcedo crouched low, his fresh blue-and-red uniform taut against his frame. His briefcase CAD, slung at his hip, hummed with green runes, their glow intensifying as he gripped the handle. His calibrator, now clipped to his belt, glinted as he shifted his weight, eyes locked on Clara Escueta across the pit.
His grin was sharp, a blade's edge, as he muttered, "Time to break some illusions."
6… 5… 4…
Celeste Marie Salcedo stood beside him, her grimoire CAD open in her hands, silver sigils flaring as she flipped its pages with deliberate precision. Her violet eyes glowed faintly under the arena's lights, her blue-and-red scarf still against the artificial breeze. The grimoire's pages rustled, mana threads weaving into invisible tethers, ready to snap. "Focus, Onii-sama," she said, voice low, clipped. "Their weapons will target your briefcase."
Across the pit, Clara Escueta flexed her hands, her brass knuckles CAD gleaming, bronze runes pulsing like a heartbeat. Her orange-and-yellow uniform caught the holograms' glow, her amber eyes narrowing as she tracked Sallie's briefcase. She cracked her knuckles, the sound sharp against the crowd's roar, and muttered to Liana, "Hit them fast. Disrupt their sync."
Liana Salamat twirled her rapier CAD, its silver blade slicing the air, indigo runes humming with quiet menace. Her braid swayed, her orange-and-yellow sash vivid against the pit's scarred concrete. Her dark eyes flicked between Celeste's grimoire and Sallie's briefcase, her voice steady. "I'll layer the abilities. Keep Sallie off-balance."
The arena's lights surged, lifting runes etched into the pit's steel rings igniting in a cascade of white-gold light, casting jagged shadows across the cadets. The crowd's screams peaked, blue-and-red scarves clashing with orange-and-yellow banners, holo-screens zooming in on the four figures, their battle suits glinting with mana-infused techweave.
Sallie's briefcase CAD flared, green runes spiraling as it began to morph—metal plates shifting, grinding, reforming into a longbow, its string taut with mana. His fingers twitched, ready to draw. Celeste's grimoire pages stopped, silver sigils locking into a pattern, tethers coiling invisibly in the air. Clara's knuckles glowed brighter, bronze runes humming with kinetic force, while Liana's rapier pulsed, indigo illusions shimmering at its tip.
3… 2… 1…
The klaxon screamed its final note, the lifting runes blazing fully, bathing the pit in blinding light. The crowd held its breath, scarves frozen mid-wave, popcorn spilling from trembling hands.
Zero. The fight began.