Protecting Neff (4)
“Hoo...”
White breath puffed from Robert Bernstein's mouth.
The sweltering midsummer heat stabbed like knives. Even in this underground parking lot without a hint of air conditioning, the chill prickling my skin was all too real.
“Origin magic, huh. It's been a while.”
A magical girl has to nail her concept, and that takes all sorts of elements.
Looks, magic, weapons, fighting style, speech patterns or backstory, signature moves, even a theme song.
But in the end, the root of every concept is the magical girl's own mental theme.
The imagination buried deep in the unconscious—the ideal self she truly wants to become. Pulling that into reality and overlaying it onto her concept as a single theme.
That's the mental theme. It's also called the Origin domain.
“It's a special effect that never fails to impress every time. The prowess of the first-generation magical girls is truly something else.”
“Nah, I'm second-gen, closer to third, actually.”
Robert clapped with genuine admiration.
But the applause vanished without a trace, swallowed by the howling blizzard.
“Come on, it's not that big an age gap from the first-gen folks.”
“Talking like some ancient historian. What, you think you're that young?”
Frost swung her magic wand with a bored expression.
The snowflakes falling from the sky instantly sharpened into piercing ice spears.
Robert hurriedly yanked out bandages, leaning on his cane.
The bandages pouring from his body wove together densely, forming a massive dome.
Kakakakakang!
The ice spears slammed into the dome with a deafening racket.
Robert's bandages were special fibers reinforced with mana—tougher than steel, stretchier than rubber. They usually repelled or absorbed amateur spells without breaking a sweat.
Yet his eyes narrowed as the bandages began freezing over at an alarming rate.
Crack! Crash!
The bandages shattered like glass, crumbling from their role as a shield. A fierce gust of blizzard whipped through the gap, grazing Robert's cheek.
'Way cruder than I expected.'
Robert clicked his tongue.
Modern magical girls—the MZ generation—prioritized efficiency above all.
Put in 10 mana, get 100 output. That was the trend.
But this little monster was different. Efficiency? What's that? Food? She'd dump 100 mana for 100 output. Not dead? Then 1,000. Still kicking? Pour in 10,000.
Every element of her mental theme was infused with Frost's mana. Right now, she was pouring it out like water.
'A war of attrition would put me at a disadvantage.'
What set old-school magical girls apart from the MZ kids? An inexhaustible mana pool, honed by decades of imagination-fueled experience.
“What're you spacing out for? It's cold.”
A house-sized block of ice formed above Frost's tilted head.
“Haha, my, my. Making a mockery of elder respect.”
“Elder assault is the trend these days.”
Robert readjusted his grip on his cane.
With a flick of his hand, the ice block plummeted.
Robert glanced up at the shadowed sky.
'She's openly baiting me into a slugfest.'
Frankly, it wasn't that hard to block. Pure lethality? The earlier ice spears packed more punch.
But block it he must. And that's exactly what Frost was counting on.
Frost had already called in Bella via Pluto.
People misunderstand, but veteran magical girls aren't romantics bound by fair one-on-one duels. If it gets the monster, great. They have zero qualms about ganging up. Not like it's their first rodeo.
Bella, especially, was one of the Monster Association's top-wanted lists.
No official rankings or hierarchies among magical girls. Ranking volunteers is silly, and it doesn't magically expand your mana pool.
But unofficially—whispers among people, monsters, and even magical girls—there was a “tier list.”
And Bella sat at the very top. One of the rare few who could solo an A-rank monster.
'Sorry about this.'
Bella—second-youngest after Neff—had forged that power through her seniors' brutal hazing.
These days, everyone doted on baby Neff. But back then? Newbies were straight-up cannon fodder.
They'd grind you endlessly. No “Neff zone” mercy. All of Seoul—hell, the whole country—was Bella's beat.
“Go smash it.” Busan? Dokdo? Didn't matter—you went.
Couldn't be helped. They'd seen too many magical girls die without that tough love.
Magical girl IDs: Front code for region, numbers for debut order.
Neff's was 814. Group chat? Barely 312, ghosts included.
That means 500+ dead or retired.
Especially the war-hardened old guard—they couldn't stomach fresh sprouts snapping to monsters.
So they ground them down. Survive. Get strong, even if you hate it.
No coddling for rookies. They never dreamed Bella would be the last for five years. Might've gone easier.
Anyway, now Bella was a walking WMD who could pulp B-ranks with a flick.
Frost hadn't unleashed her mental theme just to smash Robert solo.
Stall, and Bella arrives.
Kwaaaang!
The ice block crashed down, exploding frigid mist everywhere.
But Frost didn't loosen her grip on her wand.
'Too light.'
Sure enough.
“Bravo! Splendid! What a spectacle!”
Robert perched brazenly atop the ice block, clapping like he owned the place.
“Special effects: perfect score! Stage setup: pass! But... no audience.”
“It's the weekend. Folks don't usually come for shows like this.”
“Yet actors feed on the audience's gaze. What's the point of us brawling in this drab hole? Red bean-less bungeoppang. Tentacle porn without the tentacles.”
“ gross metaphors.”
Frost scowled, raising her wand again. Robert stayed chill.
The Bandage Gentleman. His A-rank wasn't just raw power.
His strength scaled with attention. More eyes, more power—exponentially.
No witnesses? Barely B-rank.
“So I'll invite some spectators.”
Robert thumped his cane on the floor.
Shredded bandage scraps writhed, shooting toward the ceiling.
Not at Frost. The parking lot ceiling—lobby floor above.
Even in a mental theme, space's essence holds. That “open night sky”? Hit the ceiling eventually.
Frost's eyes narrowed, reading his play.
Upstairs, four already clashing had weakened the structure. Robert's bandages pried the cracks.
Kwaduk!
The “sky” cracked. Collapse.
Rumble rumble!
Tons of concrete rained down, along with the four tangled fighters from above.
“You crazy bastards! Let go!”
“Kieeeek! Hot! It's hot!”
“Oh my! Let go of my hair!”
“Move! You're heavy!”
Ignis, Aqua, Per, Mer. They tumbled like bowling pins onto the ice.
“Ow, freezing! What the—?”
Ignis bounced up first, brushing snow off her butt and scanning around.
“Why's it so damn cold here?”
“Frost's barrier, Ignis-unnie. Scoot over.”
“Ah, Frost's doing. No wonder.”
Ignis grumbled, warming her butt with her bat's flames. Aqua sidled up, thawing hers too.
Across, Per and Mer flailed, faces planted in snow.
“Ptoo! Ptoo! Cold!”
“M-my tongue's frozen! Tongue!”
From chaos's heart, Robert crowed in ecstasy.
“Now the cast is assembled!”
His eyes gleamed mad. Mana density from his bandages surged.
Not spectators, but eyes on him. His power ballooned exponentially.
“Now we can play for real.”
A colossal bandage beast loomed behind him like a heat haze.
Ignis retightened her bat grip, tongue clicking.
“Ugh, that asshole too.”
“Oh, Ignis dear. Mind your words. He's not just an asshole—he's a super asshole.”
Per and Mer stood from the snow, grumbling.
“Argh, seriously! Old man! If the building collapses, it's on you!”
“Yeah! Not us! We just tagged along!”
“Hahaha. Isn't that why you called me?”
True enough. Per-Mer had summoned Robert to pin any fallout on him.
They hated pursuit...
“...Can't even keep your mouth shut.”
A-rank or not, tangling in major terror meant veterans would grind them to dust.
'All this over one dumb newbie.'
'Wanna go home, watch anime.'
Too deep now.
“We're monsters anyway. Think positive.”
Per shook her head at Robert's cheeky pep talk.
“Sigh, no choice. Mer.”
“Yeah, Per.”
“Let's kill a couple and bounce.”
“Aye. Before it gets messy.”
Per gathered azure mana in her fist.
Aimed at her twin beside her—Mer’s solar plexus.
The punch connected.
Pop!
Space warped. Aqua swapped into Mer's spot.
“Huh?”
Aqua's eyes bulged. Then.
Wham!
Per's full-force haymaker slammed Aqua's unguarded gut.
Sonic boom. Aqua's body rocketed like a cannonball into the snowy distance.
Kwaaaang!
“Aqua!”
Per dusted her hands, cackling.
“Nice shot.”
Per and Mer's unique magic, Devil Twins. Forcibly swaps positions between a marked target and one twin.
Meanwhile, upstairs in the studio.
“Let go! Let go already?!”
“You first! You pathetic—!”
Manager Kim was in total chaos. The presumed part-2 guests—a jammini and Neff—were yanking hair in a full brawl.
Staff flailed helplessly. Too scared to intervene on the feral kids.
Then.
“Enough!”
Bella grabbed Kargos's arm mid-swing for Neff's head. She'd been dazed by the loli's sudden arrival. Both sides cute? She'd watched the adorable staredown, but this bloody mess crossed the line. Couldn't let Neff lose.
“Neff, calm down. We're live, remember?”
“...Can't back down here!”
“Eeeeek! You vile magical girl cartel scum!”
“Kid, cut it out. Where'd you even learn that?”
As they lunged again despite Bella's plea.
Swoosh.
Pluto popped from her shadow.
Chat treated Pluto's entrance like part of the show. She whispered in Bella's ear.
“B-Bella. Big troubleee~.”
“...?”
Quick rundown. Bella's face hardened instantly.
Three A-rank monsters. Building on the brink? No time for this.
Her eyes flashed. She swung at the tumbling jamminis without warning.
Kwaaaang!
A massive gust ravaged the studio. Broadcast gear behind Neff and Kargos crumpled like paper, smashing into walls.
The two froze mid-grab, staring up at Bella.
“Show's over.”
Bella turned to staff.
“Everyone evacuate. Now.”
“W-what?! You smashed the equipment...!”
“I said move it. Deaf?”
Team Leader Kim gulped, backing away.
Bella steadied her breath, addressing everyone.
“Stay calm, follow my lead. Breaking: A-rank monsters infiltrated the building.”
“...What?!”
“Quietly to emergency exits. Kim, lead them. Go.”
Bella had wrecked the gear to cut the feed, containing the leak.
Not secrecy per se—avert panic if it spread.
But one thing even she missed.
Cameras dead, but Neff's lapel mic lived. Broadcast software hadn't fully shut down.
Black screen. Audio crystal clear.
