When his eyes opened—
The sky was wrong.
Not the dojo ceiling. Not cracked stone and drifting dust.
Above him burned twin suns — one crimson, one cerulean — their light warped and blurred behind a violent sandstorm that howled across an endless desert.
Niero did not awaken gently.
He gasped.
Dry heat scraped his lungs. Grit bit into his skin.
Half-buried alien ruins jutted from the dunes like broken ribs of some ancient titan. Blackened pillars. Fractured monoliths carved with unfamiliar glyphs. Around them lay bodies — armored warriors in biomechanical plating unlike anything of Earth, their forms twisted and freshly fallen.
The blood was still wet.
Thick.
Dark.
It soaked into the sand in sluggish rivers.
Not far from them sprawled six-legged beasts — elongated, plated creatures with serrated maws and cracked exoskeletons. Their limbs lay severed. Their ichor steamed under the red-blue light.
For a moment, Niero waited to shift perspective.
To become an observer.
To float above it like before.
But he didn't.
The wind hit him.
The sand stung his eyes.
His boots sank into the dunes.
This wasn't someone else's memory.
He was here.
He looked down.
His breath caught.
His hands were drenched.
Red and blue fluids coated his arms up to the elbows, dripping from his fingers. It wasn't dust-stained.
It was blood.
Warrior blood.
Beast blood.
His chest rose faster.
"What…?"
His voice was dry, swallowed by the storm.
He turned slowly.
Bodies everywhere.
Fresh.
Slaughtered.
And he stood in the center of it.
His breathing grew uneven.
"I didn't— Didn't I—"
But there were no wounds on him.
Only on them.
A gust of wind tore through the battlefield.
And then he saw it.
Within the sandstorm — a silhouette.
Black.
Still.
Watching.
That familiar shape.
The one from his fractured dreams.
The one that lingered at the edge of consciousness whenever the Nova-Spark flared too bright.
Niero stepped back instinctively.
The figure moved.
No — it didn't move.
It vanished and reappeared.
Right in front of him.
Hovering.
Face-to-face.
Close enough to feel the absence radiating from it.
Its form was pitch black — not shadow, not smoke — but a void given shape. No features.
Only two white dots where eyes should be.
They did not glow.
They stared.
And from that emptiness radiated something unmistakable—
Rage.
Not wild.
Not chaotic.
Focused.
Ancient.
Personal.
Niero's hands trembled.
"Who… are you?" he managed, voice shaking.
The figure gave no answer.
It simply tilted its head slightly.
Then its hand shot forward.
Cold fingers wrapped around his throat.
There was no transition.
No resistance window.
One moment distance—
The next—
He was lifted off the sand.
The grip tightened.
Air vanished from his lungs.
He clawed at the arm, but it felt like gripping nothing and iron at the same time. His Nova-Spark did not respond. His strength faltered.
The white eyes bored into him.
And for a split second—
He felt something terrifying.
Recognition.
As if the figure was not meeting him for the first time.
As if it had been waiting.
His vision darkened at the edges.
Sound dulled.
The storm faded into silence.
The grip tightened further—
Then—
He woke up.
Violently.
=
[ March 18th, 2087 (Wednesday, Afternoon) | Niero's bedroom > Maison Bella Cafe > Sector 13-05 > Mega Ark-City 01: Radiant City > Earth ]
Niero fell off his bed and hit the floor hard, air rushing back into his lungs in a ragged gasp. His hands flew to his throat.
No blood.
No sand.
No desert.
Just his room.
But his heart pounded like he had truly run through death itself.
And for a brief moment—
He could have sworn—
His fingers still smelled like iron and dust.
Niero's chest heaved, his heart hammering violently against his ribs, the echo of that desert vision still clawing at his mind. Blinking rapidly, he forced his vision to focus, only to realize the familiar surroundings of his bedroom slowly came into view.
The soft hum of the ceiling fan, the stacks of comic books, the glow of his SmartCom tablet—he's back in the waking world.
But how he got here?
What happen to the second round of the sparring test?
And then he heard them.
He saw a blurred vision of two girls in his room while hearing a muffled sound of all too familiar voices.
"Sophie… Daisy?" His voice was hoarse, weak, still trembling.
Both girls were crouched near him, faces pale with panic, eyes wide. Daisy sniffled, relief and joy threatening to spill over, her little hands trembling as she reached for him.
"You're… you're not dead!" she whispered, almost inaudible through her sniffles.
Sophie, ever the composed older sister, immediately pulled out her SmartCom.
"I'm telling Mom you're awake!" she said, tapping frantically as her thumb flew across the screen.
Before Niero could process, both sisters gently—but insistently—helped him off the floor, guiding him back to his bed. Daisy's tiny body shook as if holding back tears, while Sophie placed a calming hand on her shoulder.
"Hey, hey, it's okay," Sophie said firmly, "our brother's tougher than those pesky bees."
Niero froze mid-motion.
"Bees?" he croaked, confusion knotting in his chest.
Sophie gave him a half-smile.
"You've been out since this morning, remember? A swarm of bees attacked you before we even got home from school, and Mom and Alura took care of you before we arrived."
Niero's gaze dropped. His face… swollen. His entire body… wrapped in layers of bandages like a mummy. His mind raced, piecing together fragments of a day he couldn't remember.
Before he could speak, before he could even ask *why he looked like this* or what the bees had to do with anything, Aunt Alura appeared at the doorway. Her presence was firm, commanding.
"Alright, girls. Give he Mummy junior some space," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.
With gentle but unwavering hands, she guided both Sophie and Daisy out, the muffled sound of their protesting voices fading as the door clicked shut.
Turning back to Niero, Alura's expression softened slightly, though her eyes retained that sharp edge of authority. "We'll explain everything later," she said. "For now, rest."
Alone, Niero stared at the bandages, at his swollen face, and at the ceiling above, the weight of unanswered questions pressing down like the desert sands from his nightmare.
Only the faint echo of his sisters' murmurs lingered outside the door.
Niero's breathing slowly steadied, his pulse calming as the frantic pounding of his heart ebbed.
But almost immediately, a new sensation erupted across his body—sharp, pulsing stings that radiated from every muscle, every joint, unlike anything a swarm of bees could inflict. His skin prickled, hot and hypersensitive, and an ache sank deep into his bones.
He dropped back onto his bed with a pained groan, curling slightly as the sting spread through him. It reminded him of the agony after his first sparring test, the day his body was still learning to recover—but this… this was worse.
His limbs felt like lead, his muscles screaming, and he realized with a sinking sense of dread: this is my second resting day.
Gritting his teeth, he reached out telepathically to Vuldyr, feeling the familiar warmth of her presence flicker into his mind. Relief was immediate, though mingled with worry.
> ["Niero… you're awake,"] she said, her tone tight with both anxiety and comfort.
He swallowed, voice rough as he called back.
"Vee… what happened last night? Round two… the sparring test…?"
There was a long pause, the kind that made his stomach tighten. Then, slowly, Vuldyr's reply came, measured but heavy:
> ["You… lost."]
The word hit him like a physical blow, reverberating through his body. His chest tightened, his arms trembled, and the sting across his skin seemed to pulse in time with the harsh rhythm of defeat.
The word lost echoed in his skull.
Niero slowly reached for his pillow.
Then he slammed it over his face.
"MmmmmmmmmMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
The scream tore out of him, completely muffled by fabric, legs kicking once against the mattress in pure, contained frustration. He flailed silently for a good five seconds before going still.
Outside the room, no one heard a thing.
He pulled the pillow away, hair disheveled, face red—not entirely from swelling.
"…What happened this time?" he muttered. "I remember the climax. I was going to win. I threw that last punch and then— blackout."
There was a pause in his mind.
Vuldyr sounded… surprised.
> ["You do not remember anything after your final strike?"]
Niero blinked. "No."
Another pause.
Then—
A translucent holographic screen manifested in front of his face, hovering in mid-air. The light cast a faint blue glow across his bandaged cheeks.
> ["Then you need to see this,"] Vuldyr said quietly.
The footage began.
It was a third-person angle — as if an unseen camera floated above the dojo.
On-screen, mid-air, he saw himself and Mom flying toward each other — both charged to maximum output. Blue plasma condensed around his fist. Purple lightning armored her arms in a crossguard stance.
Impact.
His punch broke through her crossed defense.
The guard shattered.
And his fist connected with her face.
Niero's eyes widened.
"I hit her—"
> ["Yes,"] Vuldyr confirmed. ["But watch closely."]
The footage slowed.
A faint shimmer had formed around Mom's body an instant before impact — a dense electromagnetic field, nearly invisible.
His Nova-Spark punch detonated against it.
Instead of fully transferring force—
The shield absorbed and redistributed it.
Mom's head barely moved.
Her free hand snapped up.
She caught his punching arm.
Pivoted mid-air with terrifying control.
Used his own momentum.
Then—
She spun and hurled him straight down.
The camera followed.
He slammed into the dojo floor.
The black cube tiles fractured outward in a violent crater, red lines pulsing between the shattered blocks.
A shockwave rippled.
Dust.
Silence.
A status overlay flickered beside the footage:
-
> [ STATUS: CRITICAL ]
> [HP: 90 → 15]
-
A clean 60% reduction.
Total incapacitation.
Niero stared.
"…She absorbed its impact."
> ["Yes,"] Vuldyr replied. ["A personal electromagnetic defense layer. You were operating at peak output. She prepared for that."]
The footage showed his body lying motionless in the crater.
Mom descended carefully, lightning fading from her limbs. Her expression shifted from battle-ready to concerned as she approached.
"I'm done for. There goes my second chance." Niero whispered.
The hologram did not turn off.
Instead, Vuldyr's voice lowered.
> ["The footage is not over."]
"What?" Niero was shocked.
On-screen—
Mom stepped closer to examine him.
Then—
A flicker.
A pulse.
From his chest.
The Nova-Spark ignited.
Not steadily.
Not controlled.
Violently.
It exploded outward in a raw, untamed surge.
The ground around his unconscious body began to melt — black cubes warping under intense plasma heat. Blue-white energy arced outward in jagged flares.
And then—
A scream.
Primal.
Not strategic.
Not human in tone.
The entire dojo shook.
Mom leapt back instinctively, eyes wide.
His body rose off the ground.
Floating.
Arms slack at his sides.
Head tilted downward.
When his face lifted—
His eyes were blazing solid blue.
Nova-Spark energy vented from his mouth in heated breaths. The aura around him was unstable, flaring like a newborn star collapsing in on itself.
Niero stared at the footage, stomach turning.
"I… don't remember that."
> ["I know,"] Vuldyr said softly.
The hologram froze on the image of him hovering — furious, radiant, terrifying.
> ["You were unconscious. Your vital signs had dropped critically low. Yet the Nova-Spark activated independently."]
"Like… a reflex?"
> ["Possibly,"] Vuldyr replied. ["But the output level exceeded your conscious control threshold."]
Niero swallowed.
"You're saying…"
> ["I am saying,"] she continued carefully, ["that you may have entered some sort of an autonomous defensive state."]
Silence settled between them.
> ["Unknown to both of us,"] she added.
On the frozen screen, his unconscious self looked less like a boy… and more like something ancient waking up.
Niero slowly leaned forward towards the holographic screen.
The holographic footage resumed.
The frozen image of floating, unconscious Niero flickered—
And then he moved.
His head snapped back.
His mouth opened.
What came out was not a breath—
But a beam.
A concentrated stream of Nova-Spark energy erupted from his mouth in a roaring torrent, like a dragon unleashing a stellar inferno. Blue-white plasma carved through the air toward Mom, melting the dojo floor in a straight, incandescent line.
The containment alarms flared instantly.
> ["Warning. Containment Level upgraded to Level 5."]
Hexagonal light barriers layered over the dojo walls and ceiling. Reinforced force fields shimmered into place as the system detected catastrophic output levels.
Mom vanished in a flash of lightning just before the beam struck her position.
The Nova-Spark stream continued for several seconds, carving a molten trench through the black cube flooring until the blast finally ceased.
Smoke.
Heat distortion.
Silence.
Then—
Unconscious Niero's head lowered.
His body twitched.
And he vanished.
Not teleportation.
Acceleration.
He launched forward in a near split-second dash, blue plasma trailing behind him like a comet tail.
He swung.
Mom dodged.
His fist missed—
And struck the dojo floor instead.
The impact was apocalyptic.
A crater detonated outward, black cubes vaporizing, red lines fracturing in spiderweb patterns beneath the reinforced layers. The containment barriers flickered but held.
> ["In this state, you're not calculative,"] Vuldyr said quietly. ["You gone berserk with a singular target at sight...your own mother."]
The footage showed Mom reappearing several meters away, her expression no longer sparring-focused.
It was serious.
Another dash.
Another punch.
Another dodge.
Each missed strike left devastation in its wake — craters stacking upon craters, the arena floor rapidly resembling a meteor impact zone.
> ["At that time, you're not responding to feints,"] Vuldyr continued. ["He was reacting purely animal-like instinct."]
On-screen, Mom blinked to what appeared to be a safe flank position.
For a fraction of a second—
She thought she had distance.
Then unconscious Niero's head snapped toward her.
His body compressed slightly—
And he vanished.
This time the acceleration was faster.
Even the camera nearly lost track.
He reappeared directly in front of her mid-dodge—
And drove his heel into her abdomen.
The kick landed clean.
The impact shockwave distorted the air in a circular blast.
Mom's body bent from the force before she was launched upward at high velocity, a streak of purple lightning thrown skyward by raw Nova-Spark power.
The containment field ceiling rippled as she nearly collided with it.
The footage paused there.
Silence filled Niero's room.
He stared at the screen in horror.
"…I did that?"
> ["Technically, Yes"] Vuldyr answered softly.
His bandaged hands clenched slightly.
"But...that wasn't me."
> ["I know"] she agreed. ["Not consciously, at least."]
On the paused hologram, his unconscious form hovered amid melted stone and glowing craters — eyes blazing, aura violent and unrestrained.
Niero felt a chill crawl up his spine.
Because that version of him—
Did not look like someone trying to win.
He looked like something trying to destroy.
The footage continues.
Mom hovered midair, suspended by the violent arcs of her purple lightning, her aura crackling like a storm contained in human form. Her eyes glimmered with intensity—but beneath it, a faint, almost mischievous grin spread across her face.
"I'm sorry, Niero," she said, voice calm yet sharp, "but I have to end this… right now."
She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, drawing every ounce of her Mana into focus. Violent sparks danced along her limbs, coiling like serpents of pure energy. Then, almost ceremoniously, a karambit blade shimmered into her palm, etched with constellation-like patterns that pulsed in time with her heartbeat.
She murmured a chant, words ancient and commanding:
"Lamina Mea, Ascende et Transfigura."
A blinding light erupted, washing the dojo in waves of violet brilliance. Niero shielded his eyes—and when the brilliance faded, he could hardly recognize her.
Before him stood Mom in her Sororitae form.
Her silhouette was a paradox of elegance and lethal intent: a frilly, magical-girl-like white bridal gown with purple accents, black gloves and thigh-high boots. Strategic "windows" revealed midriff, cleavage, and legs, yet the outfit radiated authority rather than exposure. Behind her, countless swords and knives hovered, spinning in ethereal synchronization to form razor-sharp wings. Sparks of purple Mana clung to her like living lightning.
Niero's breath caught.
Vuldyr's voice rang in his mind, trembling slightly despite her usual calm:
> ["That… that is a Sororitae transformation. Classified, beyond even the Bloom Dominion's Codex. Mom's using both her Mana energy and Mana Arts, amplified by the abstract Arcana of Blades. Her karambit… it's the key to her transfiguration. This is not just a fight, Niero. This is the manifestation of her absolute combat essence."]
Niero's chest tightened. Fear, awe, and the familiar dread from Round 1 collided in a whirlwind of adrenaline. He had seen Mom's strength before—but this… this was something else entirely.
"The Thunder War-Goddess...Raijin." Niero muttered to himself.
The purple sparks danced around her like jagged stars, her blades hovering, slicing the air with latent menace. Every second she lingered in the air, she radiated dominance—power meant not just to strike, but to overwhelm.
Vuldyr whispered again, almost in disbelief.
> ["She's unregistered. Niero… this form isn't in any known Sororitae archive. Not only that's alarming due to the importance in Sororitae registration, but its also mean we had no data about it. If she's using an Arcana that related to blades and swords… every strike, every movement would have been lethal."]
Niero gritted his teeth, fists clenching. His Nova-Spark energy surged instinctively, but the weight of what he faced pressed down on him, his instincts screaming that this was no ordinary sparring test.
And yet, somewhere deep in his chest, a spark of defiance ignited. He knew he had to face it—his mother, in her ultimate form, the storm of blades, lightning, and sheer willpower—and survive.
The footage trembled as the transformation completed.
Then—
> ["Warning. Containment Level upgraded to Level 5."]
The dojo's automated system blared with layered sirens. Reinforced hexagonal barriers thickened. Additional energy conduits flared along the walls. Emergency sigils ignited beneath the shattered floor.
Level 5.
That wasn't for sparring.
That was for near-catastrophe.
In the recording, Sororitae Mom hovered at the center of a storm of violet sparks, blade-wings fanned behind her like a divine executioner. The air around her vibrated under sheer Mana density.
Below her, unconscious Niero's body twitched—
Then released another primal scream.
It wasn't a human shout.
It was a rupture.
He launched upward like a missile.
The collision was immediate.
Blue Nova-Spark plasma slammed into purple lightning in a violent shockwave that rippled through all five containment layers.
Surprisingly—
For a few seconds—
He overwhelmed her.
Raw, feral output.
His punches struck faster than before, each one detonating with star-like concussions. Mom was forced back several meters midair, blade-wings scattering to stabilize her position.
Yet, Mom's small grin widened.
"Still fighting even unconscious… that's my boy," she murmured.
Metallic particles gathered in her right hand, drawn from the fractured dojo cubes. Purple lightning threaded through them, forging shape from chaos.
A katana formed.
Sleek.
Crackling.
She met his next strike with the blade—
—but not the edge.
She flipped it mid-grip and struck with the blunt spine.
The impact landed across Niero's ribs.
Thunder exploded outward.
Electricity coursed through him, locking muscles, stunning nerves. Another blunt strike cracked against his shoulder. Then another against his jaw.
Each hit was devastating.
Each infused with concentrated lightning.
And yet—
He shook it off.
His body spasmed—but did not fall.
Nova-Spark flared violently from his skin, burning off residual current.
> ["He is overriding neural stun thresholds,"] Vuldyr said, voice tightening. ["That is biologically reckless."]
On-screen, Mom's expression finally shifted.
Serious.
Truly serious.
"…Alright," she said softly. "Playtime is over."
She ascended higher.
The blade-wings behind her separated.
Dozens.
Then hundreds.
Modified swords and blunt-edged blades manifested from metallic debris and pure Mana construct, hovering in layered formations around her like a celestial armory.
Lightning gathered at their cores.
She raised her hand.
Purple thunder spiraled upward into a vortex above her.
Below, berserking Niero roared and launched toward her again—
She thrust her hand downward.
The storm fell.
Blades descended like a meteor shower.
Not piercing.
Blunt.
But each one carried enough lightning to stun a war machine.
They struck him midair—
One—
Ten—
Fifty—
A hundreds—
A thousands—
Hundred thousands—
Explosions layered over explosions.
Thunder swallowed the dojo in blinding light.
She followed through, diving with the storm itself, katana raised.
At the final moment—
She slammed him down.
The combined torrent of blades and electricity drove him into the ground like a falling star.
Impact.
The entire dojo shuddered despite Level 5 containment.
When the light faded—
A massive crater lay at the center of the arena.
Blunt blades embedded everywhere.
Residual sparks crackled across shattered black cubes.
And at the bottom—
Niero lay motionless.
Nova-Spark flickering weakly.
Then fading.
HP reading in the corner of the hologram blinked once—
-
> [15HP → 1HP (CRITICAL)]
-
Containment alarms slowly downgraded.
The storm dispersed.
Sororitae Mom landed gently at the crater's edge, blade-wings dissolving into fading particles.
She exhaled.
"…Sleep."
The footage PAUSED.
Silence filled Niero's bedroom.
He stared at the blank holographic screen.
"…She dropped one hell of a meteor storm on me."
> ["Yeah,"] Vuldyr replied.
A pause.
> ["…Blunt, silver meteor storm...with lightning,"] she added carefully.
Niero lay back slowly against his pillow.
Bandages crinkled.
The footage continued once again.
Niero watched in silence as his unconscious body lay broken in the crater of shattered blades and smoking stone. Purple sparks crackled weakly in the air before fading.
He exhaled slowly.
Relief washed over him first.
"She's… okay," he murmured.
> ["Fortunately, Yeah."] Vuldyr confirmed gently. ["She was not fatally injured."]
His shoulders loosened slightly.
But the relief curdled quickly into something heavier.
Disappointment.
He clenched his bandaged fists.
"I had it. That was my second chance." His voice tightened. "If I could've captured the green dragon jade talisman from her waist… I would've proven I can survive outside the Walls of Mega Ark-City 01."
The name lingered in the air like a promise deferred.
Instead—
He had forced her to transform.
The footage shifted again.
Mom hovered for a moment longer in her Sororitae form — blades dissolving into particles, lightning dimming.
Then the aura faded.
The frilled white-and-purple bridal battle dress dissolved into motes of light.
The katana disintegrated.
Her boots, gloves, and blade-wings vanished.
She returned to her normal human form.
And the moment she did—
She dropped to her knees.
She rushed to the unconscious boy in the crater.
She pulled him into her arms.
Tight.
Too tight.
Her shoulders shook violently.
"I'm sorry— I'm so sorry— I'm sorry—Please don't die, baby!" she cried loudly, kept repeating, voice cracking, breaking.
She buried her face against his hair like he was five years old again.
As if she had killed her own child.
The military precision.
The lightning goddess.
The Sororitae of Blades.
The Thunder War-Goddess Raijin—
Gone.
Only a mother remained.
Aunt Alura sprinted into frame carrying a medical emergency case, kneeling beside them.
"Breathe," Alura urged firmly while already scanning his vitals. "He's alive. Unconscious but alive. You didn't kill him. Just breathe and calm down!"
Mom didn't respond at first.
She just held him tighter.
The footage ended there.
The hologram dissolved.
Silence filled Niero's bedroom.
He let himself fall backward onto the pillow.
Pain flared through his body again, sharp and pulsing.
He winced.
But the physical ache wasn't the worst part.
He stared at the ceiling.
"I made her transform," he whispered.
Vuldyr did not immediately answer.
"I pushed her that far," he continued. "If I hadn't gone berserk… she wouldn't have needed her Sororitae form."
The image of her crying over him hit harder than any blade.
That scared him more than her lightning.
More than the Arcana of Blades.
More than the military precision she carried in battle.
Because that version of her—
Was fragile.
And he had caused it.
> ["You are not fully responsible,"] Vuldyr said carefully. ["Your unconscious state triggered an autonomous defense reaction. You did not consciously choose escalation, nor aware of this feat."]
"But it was still me," Niero replied quietly.
His jaw tightened.
"I don't even know what that..."thing"... inside me is."
The desert vision flickered in his mind.
The black figure.
The rage.
The choking grip.
And now—
A berserker state powerful enough to force his mother into an unregistered Sororitae transformation.
The thought coiled cold around his spine.
"I wanted to prove I could survive outside the Walls," he muttered. "But what if… what if I'm that "thing" that shouldn't be allowed outside them?"
The room felt smaller.
He didn't fear his mother.
He feared himself.
And that realization weighed heavier than any defeat.
=
Niero let the holographic screen dissolve into particles of light.
The room felt smaller somehow.
He leaned back against his pillow, pressing his fingers against his temple as a dull headache throbbed behind his eyes.
"…How long?" he muttered.
There was a brief hum in his mind as Vuldyr accessed the combat logs.
> ["Round Two lasted fifty-one minutes and twenty-seven seconds."]
Niero blinked.
"…That long?"
> ["Yeah,"] Vuldyr replied. ["It exceeded Round One by eleven minutes."]
He gave a dry, pained chuckle that quickly turned into a wince. "So I improved… and still got wrecked."
> ["You improved significantly,"] Vuldyr corrected. ["Your flight stabilization, midair vector control, and Nova-Spark output efficiency increased by thirty-eight percent compared to your first spar."]
"Didn't look efficient when I got meteor-slammed."
Silence lingered for a second.
Then her tone shifted.
> ["When you entered that berserk state, I attempted multiple neural stabilization pulses to wake you. I tried to force cognitive re-alignment. You did not respond."]
Niero's fingers tightened slightly in the sheets.
"You couldn't reach me?"
> ["No."]
A pause.
> ["If your mother had not incapacitated you… the output levels you were sustaining would have exceeded your body's structural tolerance. You would have suffered catastrophic internal damage. Possibly cardiac rupture. Possibly neural burnout."]
The words were clinical.
But the weight behind them was not.
Niero stared at the ceiling.
"So I could've killed myself."
> ["Yes."]
The room felt quiet again.
"…And I don't even remember triggering it."
> ["That is the concerning part,"] Vuldyr replied.
He frowned.
"It wasn't just rage. I've been mad before."
> ["Correct. Your emotional spike was high, but not unprecedented. The trigger appears to have occurred immediately after severe HP reduction and loss of consciousness."]
"Like a survival reflex?"
> ["Possibly. But the Nova-Spark activation pattern was autonomous. It bypassed your conscious regulation entirely."]
Niero exhaled slowly.
"So I've got some hidden 'too angry to die' mode that might kill me instead."
> ["That is one way to interpretate it,"] Vuldyr said dryly.
He closed his eyes for a moment.
"…Can you figure out what it is?"
> ["I am already performing a full-body diagnostic,"] she answered. ["Cellular stress mapping. Nova-Spark energy pathway integrity and core fluctuation analysis. However, such scans require time. Your current condition is unstable."]
He groaned softly as another pulse of pain rippled through his muscles.
His entire body felt like it had run a marathon while being electrocuted.
"Yeah… I can tell."
> ["For optimal recovery,"] Vuldyr continued gently, ["you need sleep. Your body is in what you have termed 'Second Resting Day' condition. Forced wakefulness will slow healing."]
Niero cracked one eye open.
"You're telling me to nap after showing me I turned into a plasma dragon and almost self-destructed."
> ["There is no other way BUT to rest."]
He stared at the ceiling again.
"…Unbelievable."
But he was exhausted.
Not just physically.
Mentally.
Emotionally.
He let out a long sigh.
"Fine. Run your diagnosis. Wake me if I start glowing ominously or something."
> ["No worries. I will monitor you continuously."]
He shifted slightly, wincing as the bandages tugged at sore skin.
"…and Vee."
> ["Yeah?"]
"…Thanks. For trying to wake me."
A softer pause this time.
> ["I'm always by your side, Kiddo. Afterall, I'm your 'ultimate companion' Logoi."]
Niero closed his eyes.
Pain pulsed faintly through him, but beneath it—
The Nova-Spark in his chest flickered quietly.
Not raging.
Not berserk.
Just… watching.
=
[ March 18th, 2087 (Wednesday, Evening) | Niero's bedroom > Maison Bella Cafe > Sector 13-05 > Mega Ark-City 01: Radiant City > Earth ]
Evening came quietly.
Niero surfaced from sleep to the sound of gentle knocking.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
He groaned.
Every joint protested as he shifted. His muscles felt like overcooked noodles wrapped in barbed wire. Even turning his head required effort.
"I'm alive…" he muttered hoarsely.
The door slid open.
Mom stepped in first, followed by Aunt Alura, Sophie, and Daisy — forming what looked suspiciously like a medical response squad disguised as a family visit.
Sophie carried a tray carefully.
Daisy held something with both hands like it was sacred.
Aunt Alura stood with arms folded, observing.
Mom approached the bedside and gently set down a bowl that released fragrant steam into the air.
"Dinner," she said softly.
It was Chinese-style porridge — warm, silky rice congee with slivers of ginger and green onion floating on top — paired with golden deep-fried fish resting on a side plate.
Aunt Alura cleared her throat. "Courtesy of Aunty Xixi."
Niero blinked.
"…that nearby convenience store Chinese grandma who hates Aunt Alura's guts for her abusing her discounts?"
"The one and only," Alura said dryly. "She mellows down after she heard you were the tragic victim of a swarm of angry bees, so she made this homemade porridge from her secret family recipe, better than those British porridge we had once before."
There was the faintest edge on the word bees.
Sophie nodded seriously. "She said you're unlucky but resilient."
Daisy sniffled dramatically. "You almost died from bees, big bro…"
Niero slowly turned his swollen, bandaged face toward them.
"…Bees."
Mom avoided eye contact.
Alura coughed into her fist.
"Yes," Alura continued smoothly, "apparently a very aggressive swarm."
Niero's mind flashed back to the footage.
Katana.
Meteor storm of blades.
Electromagnetic shield.
Crater.
He looked down at his bandaged arms.
Yeah.
Definitely..."bees".
He opened his mouth to say something—
Then stopped.
Because Daisy was already teary-eyed again.
And Sophie was looking at him like he had narrowly survived a horror documentary.
Right.
Cover story.
He sighed internally.
"…Yeah," he croaked. "Worst bees ever."
Mom's shoulders subtly loosened in relief.
Aunt Alura perked up immediately. "See? I told you he remembers. Tough little bugger!"
Sophie stepped forward and held up a can with dramatic flair.
"And we brought you Nova-Cola!"
The silver-and-blue can glinted in the room light.
Niero stared at it like it was a holy relic.
"…You guys are the best."
"We're going to nurse you back to health," Daisy declared with tiny determination. "Like a hospital team!"
"Without overcharging," Sophie added.
Aunt Alura snorted quietly.
Mom sat beside the bed with the porridge bowl in her hands. She didn't look at him at first.
Her eyes were slightly red.
Her smile was gentle.
Too gentle.
"I'll feed you," she said softly.
Niero froze.
"…I can use my hands."
"With those hands wrapped like dumplings?" Alura pointed out.
He looked down.
His fingers are wraped together as if his hands looks like mittens.
Fair.
Mom scooped a small portion and blew on it to cool it down before holding the spoon toward him.
There was something fragile in her eyes.
Not fear.
Not authority.
Guilt.
Heavy, unspoken guilt.
Like she was afraid even the spoon might hurt him.
Niero held her gaze for a second.
He remembered the footage.
Her crying.
Her hugging him like she'd lost him.
He opened his mouth and accepted the spoonful.
It was warm.
Comforting.
Normal.
"…It's good," he said.
Mom's lips trembled faintly before she steadied herself.
"I'm glad."
Aunt Alura leaned against the wall, watching carefully.
Sophie opened the Nova-Cola with a soft hiss.
Daisy climbed halfway onto the bed despite being told not to.
The room filled with the small, ordinary sounds of family.
And for a moment—
The crater.
The berserk state.
The Sororitae form.
The black desert figure.
All of it felt distant.
But not gone.
And yet Mom's hand, still holding the spoon, trembled ever so slightly.
=
Later, after Sophie and Daisy had been gently ushered out of the room, Niero finally broke the silence. His voice was hoarse, but steady.
"So… about these angry bees..." he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Aunt Alura leaned against the edge of his bed, arms crossed, her expression a mix of seriousness and exasperation.
"Someone apparently messed with a swarm of bees outside your window while it was open. They got in. You got stung."
"And you're saying I survived that?" Niero muttered, glancing at his swollen face and bandaged body.
"Yes," Alura said flatly. "Mom and I took care of you. Bruises, swoleness, allergic reaction, nothing more. You're fine."
Niero's lips twitched.
"So let me get this straight… one day I'm down with a cold, the next day I'm 'speedrunning misfortune' with a bees attack?"
Alura rolled her eyes. "Essentially. Can you think anything to explained why you swollen and bruised like a crashtest dummy?"
Mom responded as well. "You're very lucky it wasn't something far worse."
Niero allowed himself a brief smirk, though his head throbbed with lingering pain.
Mom hesitated for a moment, biting her lip before speaking. "Niero… do you… remember anything from last night's sparring test?"
Niero feigned a shrug, keeping his voice light.
"I remember… I was going toe-to-toe with you. I might have gotten a little cocky… and, uh… I joked about getting a sugar mommy." He winced theatrically. "Then, you went berserk. Lightning, flying… blacked out before I could throw that one mighty punch."
Mom rubbed the back of her neck, exhaling shakily, while Alura hissed, secondhand concern written all over her face.
Mom swallowed.
What followed was careful. Measured.
They told him what happened after the blackout—the surge of power, the energy burst that shattered the sparring grounds, the way his aura had twisted violent and unstable. How he had rampaged. How Mom had no choice but to escalate—to assume her Sororitae form—to stop him before he hurt someone or himself.
Niero widened his eyes at all the right moments.
"You… what?" he breathed, feigning shock. "I did that?"
Mom nodded, trembling.
Then she broke.
Tears spilled freely as she rushed forward, clutching his hands carefully so she wouldn't hurt him again.
"I hurt you," she sobbed. "I hurt my baby badger. I'm a horrible mother. I lost control. I let my anger—"
Alura immediately stepped in, placing a steady hand on her shoulder. "You stopped a rampage. You didn't do it out of cruelty."
But Mom shook her head.
"When you said you'd get a sugar mommy…" Her voice cracked. "I imagined some rich, predatory woman taking advantage of you. Kissing you. Using you. Looking back at me like she'd stolen something precious." Her expression twisted with shame. "It made me blind with rage. I couldn't think straight. I just… I refused to let my baby be taken away by sick, depraved women."
The confession hung heavy in the air.
Niero blinked slowly.
"…Mom."
She squeezed her eyes shut.
"I let paranoia and disgusting thoughts take over. I'm so sorry. I was wrong. I know it was a joke...but...."
For a moment, he just looked at her—really looked at her. Not the lightning-wielding warrior. Not the unstoppable Sororitae.
Just his mom.
"…First of all," he said gently, "I was joking. I can even handle Daisy stealing my fries. You honestly think I would go for a haughty rich cougar?"
Alura snorted despite herself.
"And second," he continued carefully, "I'm not going anywhere. No sugar mommy is going to abduct me. Especially not if she has to fight you first."
That earned a weak, watery laugh from Mom.
He shifted, grimacing.
"But for the record? Next time I make a dumb joke, maybe ground me. Don't… turn me into a...uhh...a crash test dummy."
Mom sniffed, nodding rapidly. "Alrigth."
Alura folded her arms again, but her voice softened.
"And perhaps we retire the bee narrative soon. It won't hold under cross-examination."
Niero glanced at the door.
"Yeah. Sophie's already suspicious."
"Of course she is," Alura muttered.
Mom carefully brushed his hair away from his forehead, guilt still lingering but no longer suffocating.
"I'll do better," she whispered.
Niero gave her a tired but sincere smile.
However, he lowered his eyes at that moment.
"…I'm sorry too."
Mom blinked. "For what?"
"For whatever that was." He gestured weakly to the air, meaning the rampage. The blackout. The destruction. "I didn't even know I could become...that. If I scared you, or hurt anyone—"
Mom squeezed his hand gently.
"We're calling it even," she said softly. "I frightened you with the lightning beatdown over a terrible joke. You frightened me with the berserker episode. Balance restored."
Alura gave a small nod of agreement.
Niero managed a faint smile, then winced at how much that simple movement hurt.
"…Do you have any idea what triggered it?" he asked. "What made me snap like that?"
Mom and Alura exchanged a look.
Alura exhaled. "Boy. Your psionic ability is… poorly understood."
"That's a diplomatic way of saying we have no idea," Mom added.
She brushed a thumb carefully along the unbruised part of his knuckles.
"It didn't just enhance your strength," she continued. "It amplified everything. Your speed. Your durability. You flew. You matched me blow for blow for a while." Her voice held a complicated mix of pride and unease. "It was incredible."
"And terrifying," Alura finished.
Mom nodded slowly. "The energy spike before you lost control… it didn't feel ordinary, at least not Psionic level. It felt like something deeper surfaced."
Niero swallowed. That lined up too well with what he'd seen in Vuldyr's footage.
He looked down at the porridge bowl in his lap.
"I didn't mean for any of it to happen."
"I know, sweetie." Mom said immediately.
She inhaled shakily, then straightened a bit.
"It's going to be night soon. Finish your porridge. Rest. When you're healed and thinking clearly, we'll talk more about Round Two and everything else related to it."
He nodded obediently and, despite his soreness, forced himself to finish the remaining porridge quickly. The warm rice and fried fish were comforting—simple, grounding.
As soon as he was done, Alura stepped forward and took the empty bowl.
"Good," she said. "Recovery first. Existential crises later."
Mom leaned in carefully and wrapped him in a hug.
It hurt.
Every bruise protested. His ribs screamed. His swollen cheek throbbed against her shoulder.
But he didn't say a word.
She pressed a long, gentle kiss to his forehead.
"Get well soon, baby badger."
He managed a small hum of acknowledgment.
Alura gave him one last assessing look before guiding Mom toward the door.
The lights dimmed.
The door clicked shut.
Silence filled the room.
Outside the window, the world continued softly—cars passing by in steady rhythm, faint muffled sounds from distant building screens flickering across the night, birds giving their last scattered tweets before settling.
Niero lay back carefully against the pillows.
The house felt peaceful again.
But beneath the quiet, his thoughts stirred.
Round Two.
The berserker state.
The energy burst.
He stared at the ceiling, listening to the ambient hum of the evening, letting the silence wrap around him as his body ached and slowly, reluctantly, began to rest.
=
[ March 18th, 2087 (Wednesday, Midnight) | Niero's bedroom > Maison Bella Cafe > Sector 13-05 > Mega Ark-City 01: Radiant City > Earth ]
It was well past midnight when Niero heard it.
Tap. Tap.
A pause.
Then a softer knock.
"…Big bro?" Sophie whispered from behind the door.
"…Are you awake?" Daisy added, even quieter.
Niero groaned into his pillow.
He already knew this was going to end badly for his rest schedule.
"…It's open," he muttered.
The door creaked inward.
In marched chaos.
Sophie and Daisy entered in full pajama regalia, dragging pillows, comforters, and an unreasonable number of plushies. Daisy carried hers like a general transporting battlefield supplies. Sophie looked determined, solemn, and slightly dramatic.
At the same time, Pumpkin, the family's favorite fat orange tabby, came into his room as well while caring a blue sock monkey plush with its mouth, as if it wants to be included.
They shut the door carefully behind them.
Niero blinked at the mountain of bedding.
"…Why does this look like a siege?"
Daisy puffed her cheeks. "Because you keep getting sick!"
Sophie nodded firmly. "Cold yesterday. Bee attack today. At this rate, tomorrow you'll get hit by a meteor."
"Thats an overstatement," Niero protested weakly whilerolled his eyes.
They ignored him and began constructing what appeared to be a defensive perimeter around his bed.
"Mom said to let me rest," he tried again.
"We are letting you rest," Sophie replied. "We're just resting here."
Daisy plopped down beside the bed and dramatically clutched his hand. "We must nurse our precious brother back to health."
"This is incredibly unnecessary."
Neither of them listened.
Instead, Daisy placed her pillowcase onto the bed and untied it like it contained forbidden treasure.
Out spilled contraband.
Mini spam-like jerky sausages. Potato chips. Biscuits. Candies. And—most impressive of all—a sleek can of Nova-Cola, the newest variant with a disposable micro-refrigeration module humming faintly to keep the drink chilled.
Niero stared.
"…Does Mom know about your black-market snack operation?"
Both sisters froze.
Then they slowly turned to him with identical mischievous grins.
"She won't," Sophie said calmly, "if you don't tell."
Daisy pulled out a bag of Korean honey butter–flavored potato chips and held it toward him like a bribe offering to a dragon.
Niero stared at the bag.
Then at Daisy.
Then back at the bag.
"…You're bribing me...an injured man."
Daisy shook the bag enticingly.
He chuckled despite the pain and accepted it.
"Fine. But if I get blamed for missing snacks, I'm gonna snitch."
Daisy gasped. "Betrayal!"
Before he could reply, Sophie's expression sharpened.
"We're also here for security."
"Security?"
"Yes," Daisy nodded gravely. "What if the bees come back?"
Niero blinked slowly.
"…right...the bees."
Sophie stood up dramatically and reached for her tennis racket, which she had leaned against the wall.
A faint crackling began to hum along its frame.
Lightning flickered along the strings.
"Mana Arts," she declared with quiet authority. "[Lightning Path — Rank B]."
The air tingled faintly.
Niero stared at the glowing racket.
"…You're going to play tennis with insects?"
"Lets say I will send them to their maker," Sophie said confidently.
Meanwhile, Daisy popped a peppermint candy into her mouth. She raised her left hand, forming a V with her index finger and thumb while taking another peppermint candy and use it as ammuntion.
A subtle shimmer of energy gathered between them.
With practiced focus, she shaped it into a translucent telekinetic band.
"[Mana Arts: Slingshot — Rank B]."
She held the peppermint between the invisible tension line, aiming dramatically toward the window.
"We are ready."
Niero looked between the lightning-infused tennis racket and the psychic candy artillery.
"…You two are overqualified for pest control."
Daisy struck a heroic pose. "No bee shall sting our brother again!"
Sophie pointed the racket toward the window like a knight raising a blade. "Let them try. I will fry them all!"
Despite the throbbing in his ribs, Niero laughed quietly.
His body hurt.
His face was swollen.
He was still trying to process the fact that he had apparently gone berserk and nearly leveled a sparring ground.
But right now—
He was surrounded by pillows, contraband snacks, a lightning-charged tennis racket, and a peppermint-powered telekinetic weapon.
"…You know," he murmured, opening the honey butter chips carefully, "if the bees see s you two, they'll surrender immediately."
Daisy grinned.
Sophie adjusted her stance with disciplined seriousness.
Outside, the night remained calm.
No bees.
Just the faint hum of distant cars and city lights.
And inside the room, a very unnecessary—but very sincere—midnight guard duty began.
=
While the girls "manned their stations," dragging comforters across the floor and arranging plushies into what looked like a fortified cuddle-barricade, Niero leaned back against his pillows and let the pain fade into the background.
At the same time, Pumpkin jumped on his bed and curled up on his lap with its blue sock monkey. The cat even let go some soft meow, signaling for Niero to pet the cat as if it demands it.
Sophie was debating whether they should watch a late-night action movie "for high-octane martial arts awesomeness." Daisy argued for anime "because magical girls are statistically better at friendship-based power and inspiration."
Between the whispering and the faint crinkle of snack wrappers, Niero's thoughts drifted.
Their Mana Arts.
Mom had approved them as potential Sororitae candidates.
That wasn't small.
That meant Mom believed they were capable of surviving the path.
Sophie's Rank-B [Lightning Path] was the most obvious inheritance. She could generate electricity, yes—but more impressively, she could channel it. Her body became a conduit. The crackling energy enhanced her speed to near-blurring levels, letting her dash across short distances like a streak of living lightning. And when she infused her tennis racket—or any weapon—with it, the impact carried a stunning, searing force.
It was a diluted echo of Mom's [Mana Arts (Rank-S): Wrath of Raijin], but the resemblance was unmistakable. Same thunderous temperament. Same sharp, explosive edge.
Sophie didn't just wield lightning.
She moved like it.
Daisy, on the other hand, was different.
Rank-B [Slingshot].
At first glance, it seemed harmless—almost playful. A telekinetic launch ability. But Niero had seen it in action before.
By raising one of her hands, forming a V with their index finger and thumb to imitate a slingshot weapon, anything Daisy touched are not only telepathically marked and levitate but also be temporally accelerated to terrifying velocity once released. Mass didn't seem to matter. Resistance didn't matter. It was as if, for a split second, inertia politely stepped aside and allowed her will to dictate motion.
Temporarily ignoring inertia.
That was absurd.
It wasn't electrical in nature—not visibly, at least—but the way objects shot forward reminded him of a railgun. A momentary burst of controlled force, like an electromagnetic discharge compressed into a single vector.
Peppermint candy today.
A metal marble tomorrow.
Something heavier, later.
The potential scaled frighteningly well.
Niero watched as Daisy theatrically tested her aim at an empty corner of the room (with safety awareness, thankfully).
If Sophie was inherited thunder—
Daisy was precision acceleration.
Different element. Different expression.
But both had reached Rank-B already.
And Mom had deemed them ready to walk the path toward Sororitae one day.
A faint unease stirred in Niero's chest.
He had gone berserk.
They had awakened clean, controlled, disciplined abilities.
And yet, earlier, he had nearly matched Mom in direct combat before losing himself.
"Incredible and terrifying," Mom and Aunt had called it.
He glanced at his sisters.
Sophie was now lecturing Daisy about proper lightning posture. Daisy was retaliating by stuffing a biscuit into Sophie's mouth mid-sentence.
They were laughing.
They were bright.
They were steady.
Maybe that was the difference.
Their powers expressed outward—clear, defined.
His had erupted.
For a brief moment, Niero wondered:
Was his psionic ability something inherited?
Or something else entirely?
"Big bro!" Daisy hissed. "Movie vote!"
He blinked out of his thoughts.
"Huh?...What are the options?"
"Kung Fu action film," Sophie said immediately.
"Magical girl anime movie," Daisy countered.
He looked at the lightning-charged tennis racket. Then at the telekinetic peppermint ammunition.
"Uuuuuhhh...Magical girls," he decided.
Daisy cheered softly.
Sophie groaned but complied.
As they dimmed the lights further and huddled under blankets, Niero let himself relax.
Daisy carefully rotated Niero's gaming monitor so it faced the makeshift blanket nest on his bed.
The screen flickered to life.
A colorful title card burst across the display:
"Shining Troops: For Love and Peace."
Daisy clasped her hands dramatically. "It came out five years ago! I never got to watch it properly. I was saving it for a special night."
She looked at Sophie.
Then at Niero.
"…With both my big sister and big brother."
"Mrrmmm" softly meowed by Pumpkin.
"Haha. And Pumpkin too." Said Daisy while petting the cat.
Sophie pretended to sigh, but she adjusted the comforter and leaned closer anyway. "Fine. For tactical analysis."
Niero raised an eyebrow. "Of magical girls?"
"For studies. Ya know. Me and Daisy wants to be a Sororitae," Sophie corrected.
The opening sequence began—sparkles, orchestral swell, five silhouetted girls standing against a sunset as an ominous magical empire loomed in the background, stealing hopes and dreams from children in swirling purple energy.
Daisy gasped softly. "They fight despair monsters and evil empires!!"
"Of course they do," Niero muttered, though a faint smile tugged at his swollen cheek.
Then came the transformation sequence.
Wind. Petals. Ribbons spiraling in slow motion. Light cascading around each girl in dramatic fashion as their outfits formed piece by piece.
Daisy squealed quietly.
Sophie watched with narrowed analytical focus.
Niero… watched too.
And while pastel light flooded the room from the monitor, he closed his eyes briefly.
Vuldyr.
Her voice answered instantly in his mind.
> ["Yes, Niero."]
Status of my healing.
A brief pause—like data compiling.
> ["Current physical condition: 41% integrity relative to baseline 150 HP scale."]
He resisted the urge to groan out loud.
Forty-one?
> ["Correct. Extensive muscular tearing, bone microfractures, internal energy channel strain, and Nova-Spark residue instability detected."]
That tracked.
Mom's lightning-infused rage.
His own unconscious Nova-Spark overload.
And then Mom escalating into her Sororitae state to finally incapacitate him.
That wasn't a single-source injury.
That was cumulative devastation.
Estimated full recovery time?
> ["Approximately thirty-six to forty hours, assuming uninterrupted rest and no further combat scenarios."]
A day and a half…
> ["Affirmative."]
On-screen, one of the magical girls declared: "For love and peace, we shine brighter than despair!"
Daisy sniffled emotionally already.
Niero exhaled slowly.
The berserk state? Any insight?
> ["Preliminary diagnostics ongoing,"] Vuldyr replied. ["Trigger likely tied to extreme emotional spike combined with Nova-Spark saturation and psionic amplification feedback loop. Further analysis required."]
Translation: still dangerous. Still unknown.
He opened his eyes.
Pink sparkles exploded across the screen as the team posed heroically.
Beside him, Daisy was leaning forward, completely absorbed.
Sophie pretended to critique animation fluidity but hadn't looked away once.
Niero glanced at his sisters.
Rank-B lightning.
Rank-B inertia-defying telekinesis.
Controlled. Directed. Approved by Mom.
And him?
Forty-one percent health.
A berserker episode he didn't remember.
He shifted slightly—pain flaring across his ribs.
Daisy immediately noticed.
"Does it hurt?" she whispered.
"Just a little," he lied.
Sophie subtly adjusted a pillow behind his back to reduce pressure without making a big deal of it.
While the magical girls movie playing, delivering a synchronized sparkle barrage, Niero shifted topics in his mind.
Vuldyr.
> ["Yes."]
That new Skill from Level 11. Eidos Replicatus. Explain.
There was a faint hum—like an archive opening.
-
> [ < SKILL (Prime) > Imaginary Blueprint – Eidos Replicatus ]
> Type: Psychic / Adaptive
> Description: Allows the user to replicate an ability belonging to another being as [Skills], both passive and active types, into their [Skill Archive].
> Cooldown: 24 Hours per activation
> Restrictions:
> • Replicated skills begin at Lv 01 and must be trained independently from the original source.
> • Replication copies the concept, not the strength.
> • Replicated power growth depends on user effort and synergy.
-
Niero blinked slowly.
…we haven't used this before, right?
A small pause.
> ["Yeah. Not since we got this Skill at Level 11."]
That explained too much.
Can I use it on Mana Casters? Mom? Sophie? Daisy?
> ["Mana Arts — yes,"] Vuldyr replied. ["Arcana Arts of a Sororitae — not at your current level. Their Arcana are related to the abstract concept of reality, structures that exceed your present replication ceiling for now."]
So I could replicate Lightning Path. Or Slingshot.
> ["Correct. However, your version will begin at Lv.01 and be significantly weaker than the original user. Growth depends on training, understanding, and compatibility."]
Could it surpass them?
> ["Potentially. If synergy and insight exceed the source."]
On-screen, one of the magical girls shouted about the power of bonds.
Niero looked at Daisy.
She was fully absorbed in the movie, hugging a plushie to her chest, Nova-Cola resting beside her like sacred relic.
He slowly wrapped one arm around her shoulders.
Daisy immediately melted sideways and snuggled closer with a satisfied hum.
"…Big bro warm," she mumbled.
Niero inhaled quietly.
"Activate [Skill: Eidos Replicatus]. Target: Daisy."
There was no flash. No visible change.
Only a subtle internal shift—like a new drawer being added to a cabinet in his mind.
Then a chime comes in:
-
> [STATUS: Notice]
> New Skill Acquired:
> [Skill (Replicatus): Slingshot – Lv.01]
> By raising their hand and forming a V between thumb and index finger like a slingshot, they can levitate anything they marked via touches. Upon release, the object is temporally accelerated to catastrophic velocity. Mass, drag, and inertia are momentarily overridden, letting her will alone dictate motion for a split second.
-
A faint sensation tingled along his fingers.
A conceptual understanding.
Not mastery.
Blueprint.
He could feel the logic of it—momentary inertia suppression. Directional will projection. Vector enforcement.
Crude.
Unrefined.
But there.
Before he could process further—
Pinch.
A sharp, merciless twist struck the bruised side of his stomach.
Niero nearly launched into orbit.
He turned slowly.
Sophie was staring at him.
"…What?" he whispered.
Her eyes flicked meaningfully to his arm around Daisy.
Then back to him.
Petty jealousy radiated off her like static.
He sighed internally.
Carefully—very carefully, ignoring how much his ribs protested—he extended his other arm and wrapped it around Sophie's shoulders too.
She stiffened for half a second.
Then relaxed.
"…Fair," she muttered.
Daisy, now sandwiched comfortably, smiled smugly without looking away from the movie.
The three of them leaned together under blankets.
On-screen, the magical girls declared that unity multiplies strength.
Niero suppressed a laugh.
In his mind, he examined the newly archived Skill.
Slingshot (Lv.01).
Weak.
Basic.
But conceptually terrifying.
If Daisy's Rank-B version already ignored inertia briefly—
What would his become if trained under psionic amplification?
What if combined with Nova-Spark?
What if—
He stopped himself.
Forty-one percent health.
Day and a half to recover.
No more experiments tonight.
Instead, he tightened his arms slightly around both sisters.
Sophie pretended not to smile.
Daisy leaned harder into him.
The Shining Troops unleashed their final attack in a cascade of color.
And beneath the glow of magical light and sisterly warmth, Niero quietly added a new blueprint to his growing arsenal—unseen, unannounced, and just beginning at Lv.01.
=
[ March 19th, 2087 (Thursday, Morning) | Niero's bedroom > Maison Bella Cafe > Sector 13-05 > Mega Ark-City 01: Radiant City > Earth ]
Morning came gently.
Sunlight streamed through the window and landed squarely on Niero's face.
He groaned and squinted, rolling slightly—
—and paused.
The room was quiet.
No whispering.
No crinkling snack wrappers.
No dramatic magical girl commentary.
He blinked fully awake.
The makeshift blanket fortress was gone. No pillows on the floor. No plushie barricade. No Nova-Cola can humming faintly in the corner.
His sisters had cleaned everything up.
Which meant one thing.
"…School," he muttered.
He sat up slowly.
The pain was still there—but duller. Manageable. The stiffness in his ribs no longer felt like shattered glass grinding together. Even the swelling in his face had receded enough that he could open both eyes comfortably.
He glanced down at the full-body bandage wrapping him like a ceremonial mummy.
"…Yeah, this has to go."
Carefully, he began unwrapping it. Layer by layer. The gauze peeled away to reveal bruises now faded to yellowed remnants instead of violent purple. The worst of the swelling had diminished.
He flexed his fingers.
Rolled his shoulder.
Winced only slightly.
Better.
"Vuldyr."
> ["Yes, Niero."]
"Recovery status."
A brief flicker of internal diagnostics.
> ["Good news. Current physical integrity: 67% of baseline capacity."]
He exhaled with relief.
"Estimated full recovery?"
> ["Projected full restoration by tomorrow afternoon, assuming no strenuous activity."]
"Nice," he murmured aloud.
Forty-one percent last night.
Sixty-seven this morning.
That was solid progress.
For a moment, he actually smiled.
Then Vuldyr continued.
> ["However..."]
His smile faded slightly.
> ["Your berserk manifestation's further analysis just completed and...you might need its attention."]
"…Go on."
A cascade of internal data projections surfaced in his mind—biological diagnostics recorded during the sparring test.
Heartbeat rate spiking past safe thresholds.
Adrenaline flooding his bloodstream.
Nova-Spark energy density surging unpredictably.
Brainwave patterns destabilizing.
> ["The berserk state is not triggered solely by critical health decline,"] Vuldyr explained. ["It is also correlated with emotional escalation — rage, frustration, and acute refusal to concede defeat."]
Niero's jaw tightened.
> ["When you approached incapacitation, your biological systems initiated a last-minute survival response. Nova-Spark energy reacted violently to preserve continuity."]
"…A survival instinct."
> ["Correct."]
Images replayed in broken fragments.
Him refusing to lose.
The suffocating dread of failure.
The terror of not being strong enough.
Of never becoming a Marauder.
Of Mom effortlessly overpowering him.
> ["Your refusal to fall generated an energy feedback cascade,"] Vuldyr continued. ["But when consciousness collapsed, restraint collapsed with it. The survival instinct remained active but unguided — resulting in autonomous combat behavior. Classification: berserk state."]
Niero's throat went dry.
"So I wasn't… gone?"
> ["You remained biologically active. Cognitive functions were suppressed. Instinct dominated. You exhibited predatory aggression comparable to a feral Beast — prepared to eliminate any perceived threat."]
A feral Beast.
Ready to kill anything in sight.
That was worse.
Far worse.
His fingers curled slowly into his palms.
If that power answered his desperation…
If it awakened when he feared losing…
Then what would happen the next time he was pushed to the edge?
What if his sisters were nearby?
What if Mom and Aunt was?
What if the Bloom Dominion...?
The thought made his chest tighten.
This wasn't strength.
It was something wild.
Almost untamed.
Deep within himself.
Something that didn't need him.
And that terrified him more than losing ever had.
=
<<<[ Ch 18, Part 04 - END ]>>>