Kyoko headed to her car to contact battalion headquarters, trailing Toshikazu. Her claim of staying put wasn't a lie—her goal was the car's communicator, not the vehicle itself.
Still, she mused, she hadn't anticipated this chaos despite her cryptic warning last night. She'd expected a minor incident—maybe spies attempting a hostage grab for their comrades' release. When Toshikazu mobilized his team based on her words, she'd been privately exasperated by the scale, but now it was proving useful. Honest simplicity trumps cunning, she thought, genuinely impressed.
"Tatsuya-kun will be fine, right?"
Receiving orders from headquarters, Kyoko thought of the other operative present. A special officer, undeniably the Independent Magic-Equipped Battalion's strongest asset, relying on him was unavoidable. Yet, she sincerely wished to avoid deploying him.
At 3:37 PM, the venue shook with a blast and tremors. Most of the audience, confused, murmured for answers.
"Miyuki!" Tatsuya called, prioritizing her above all.
"Onii-sama!" she replied from below the stage.
In two strides, he reached her side. Though seated in the second row of VIP seats, Miyuki's quick move toward him was swift.
"What's happening?" she asked.
"Likely a grenade at the main entrance," Tatsuya said.
"A grenade?" another voice gasped.
Tatsuya froze briefly, then recovered. "Airi, you're here."
"We're here too," Shizuku said.
"Been a while, Tatsuya-san," Honoka added.
"So, Tatsuya-sama, you said a grenade…" Airi pressed.
"Onii-sama, are the seniors okay?" Miyuki asked.
"The front entrance was guarded by association-hired security, including combat-experienced magicians. A typical crime group shouldn't be an issue, but…"
Tatsuya's bad feeling grew. The data card from Kyoko hinted at foreign state involvement. As if confirming his fears, multiple gunshots rang out.
(Not full-auto… High-power rifles for anti-magician combat!)
Certain magics, like the Juumonji family's multi-layered barriers, could neutralize firearms. But offense and defense evolve in a constant arms race. High-velocity bullets generating immense inertial force, designed to bypass magicians' defenses, were the hallmark of anti-magician rifles. Such weapons required advanced tech, beyond the reach of small nations' militaries.
"Tatsuya-sama, is this place safe?" Honoka asked.
"Unclear. Moving rashly could worsen things," Tatsuya replied.
"Isn't Ichijo on security?" Airi asked.
"One guy can't handle this many," Tatsuya said with a wry smile.
Airi's grumble was cut short as heavy footsteps stormed in. A group wielding rifles burst into the audience.
"Sloppy…" Tatsuya muttered, clicking his tongue inwardly.
He'd half-expected a breach, but not this fast. As screams echoed, Third High students on stage reacted boldly. Their presentation's magic, adaptable for combat, prompted them to activate their CADs, but gunshots roared first. Bullets struck the stage's back wall before their magic could take effect—high-power rifles, as Tatsuya suspected.
"Stay still!" an intruder barked, his voice halting, suggesting recent illegal entry.
Modern magic, sped up by CADs, matched firearms' speed—but only matched. Against pre-aimed guns, resistance was unwise unless the magician's skill was exceptional.
"Drop your devices on the floor," the intruders ordered.
They seemed experienced in anti-magician combat, possibly magicians themselves, Tatsuya noted. On stage, Shinkuro and other Third High students reluctantly placed their CADs down, trained to know bravery from recklessness.
Tatsuya watched, impressed, but his attention shifted. Standing in the aisle, his group was conspicuous.
"You too!" an intruder shouted, aiming at Tatsuya.
No mistaking the target.
"Onii-sama…" Miyuki whispered.
"Tatsuya-sama…" Airi murmured.
(This is it…)
Six intruders: three front units, three backups. Terrorists or guerrillas, Tatsuya assessed, aiming without a CAD.
(I'd prefer a subtle magic, but…)
Using Mist Dispersion in front of this crowd was risky, but if necessary, he'd act. Expressionless, he weighed his options as an intruder yelled, "Hurry up!"
Tatsuya didn't move, observing the approaching man. His cold, fearless gaze unnerved the intruder, who sensed observation, not submission. Irritation—and an unconscious dread—made the man's finger tighten on the trigger.
"Wait!" a comrade shouted.
Too late. A shot rang out, followed by screams from four Third High girls. Fired with clear intent from three meters, the bullet seemed destined to bring tragedy.
Next time, will Shinkuro roar?
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