Chapter 32: I’m not an old fart.

Choi Ye-na, a.k.a. Reaper Mors, agreed to join me on the trip.

I was ready to head out, but the support team called, saying they wanted to meet us in person.

Issuing orders over the phone isn’t proper, they said.

I’m not fond of excessive treatment, but it’s polite to accept.

“Didn’t expect Reaper Mors to come too,” Kim Tae-hyun, the supporter introduced by Frozen Princess, said, waiting at the meeting spot.

A man in a neat suit.
First time meeting face-to-face.

“Two’s better than one,” I replied.

Reaper Mors rarely shows up on-site.

Her volunteering for a hassle like this was surprising.

“Felt bad sending Lily alone. Plus, I’ve been AWOL before, so I’m setting an example as a senior,” Reaper Mors said, making it up.

“We’re grateful to you both, despite your busy schedules. It’s a long trip, but we can arrange a taxi if you’d like. What’s your plan?”

“No need. We’re flying,” I said.

“Like when you put out that wildfire? No offense, but that distance might be tough for Reaper Mors…” Kim Tae-hyun glanced at her.

“Yeah, it’s too much for me. Sorry, could you call a taxi—”

“Nope, no need,” I cut her off.

She was trying to weasel out, but I stopped her.

“You know her specialty’s levitation magic. We’re flying together.”

With her delinquent-style outfit, flying suits her.

…Enough with the bad puns.

“I keep saying it’s too much!” Reaper Mors protested.

“I’ll refuel you mid-air, like with Aqua.”

“I’m not a machine!”

She grumbled, but she’d manage fine.

Probably.

“No worries about taxi costs—the support team’s got it,” Kim said.

“It’s for training. Reaper Mors is gonna get stronger and make a name for herself.”

“Impressive effort,” Kim said with an awkward smile.

“Not for personal gain—for peace,” Reaper Mors added, resigned.

“I don’t have much to offer. My apologies,” Kim said.

“No, we appreciate the offer,” I replied.

A warm exchange.

The support team was contacted, and the nearby villagers were warned to stay cautious.

Cherry Fiore did her best, but trouble erupted.

“Leave the monsters to me and clear a path!” she shouted.

Under moonlight in the pre-dawn darkness, monsters rampaged in a village of less than a thousand people.

“But there’s too many!” Metaphorte cried.

“Binding their legs is enough for me. Go!”

“…Got it!”

A surprise attack.

The app blared, and they arrived to chaos.

With few streetlights, visibility was poor.

Car headlights flickered on, but they weren’t enough to track the monsters.

“Binding Waltz!”

Cherry Fiore’s long ribbon formed a safety line.

It automatically wrapped around any monster that touched it, restraining them, letting people escape to the shelter.

“Follow me!” Metaphorte called.

She took down monsters ahead, firing note-shaped bullets from her gun to clear a path.

“What’s happening…?”

“Monsters in a rural place like this…?”

Terrified elders followed, shaken.

Fighting while protecting others in low visibility was tough, but they gave it their all.

By the time things settled, the morning sun was rising.

No civilian casualties.

The monsters were down early, but checking for stragglers took time.

“Ugh… I’m sleeping through fourth period,” Metaphorte sighed, exhausted.

“You still gotta attend class,” Cherry Fiore said.

“C’mon, cut me some slack today.”

After hours of high tension, their bodies felt like lead.

They wanted to collapse into bed, but one task remained.

“Why’s it still open?” Metaphorte asked.

The glitched gate had unleashed monsters all night.

They assumed it’d close, but no.

“Guess not everything’s come out yet,” Cherry Fiore said, baffled.

Even a seasoned magical girl like her was stunned.

“It’s not just open—it’s growing…”

Once barely wide enough for a person, it was now several times larger.

“It’s not gonna turn into that mega-gate from Seoul, is it?” Metaphorte asked.

“No way,” Cherry Fiore said, but she sounded uneasy.

“Scarlet Lily’s coming today, so if we hold out till then, we’ll be fine.”

The worst was over.

The unprecedented rookie who rose to the top from her debut.

With her here, they could relax.

“…I’m not thrilled,” Metaphorte muttered, looking displeased.

“Why?”

“Hanging onto some magical girl who’s neither peer nor junior hurts my pride.”

She was honest.

“Jealous?” Cherry Fiore asked.

“Not exactly…”

Not dislike, but an uneasy feeling, hard to articulate.

“She might be cool once you meet her. Don’t judge too soon,” Cherry Fiore advised.

She got along with everyone, while Metaphorte was pickier.

But magical girls are all comrades.
Metaphorte resolved to try being open-minded, as her senior suggested.

“Okay.”

Levitation magic is high-skill.

Taking off is manageable, but maintaining focus is hard.

Like when Aqua nearly crashed after a monster attack, the convenient skill comes with risks.

It also burns magic fast.

Once cruising, inertia helps, but beginners would tire out in minutes.

It’s a marathon, not a sprint.

Maintaining 80% or less of max speed and managing magic efficiently is key to going far.

“What kind of training is this?!” Reaper Mors complained, flying below the clouds.

“Fly till your magic’s drained, refuel, repeat. Perfect training,” I said.

“That’s called torture! Refueling magic doesn’t restore stamina!”

Magic and stamina—similar but distinct.

If RPG games and reality share one thing, it’s that stamina matters more.

Run out of stamina, you die. Magic? Not so much.

So this level of torture is fine.

“Why drag me into this suffering…?” she groaned.

“Suffering? We’re helping people. Don’t say that.”

Reaper Mors stopped mid-air, panting.

“Refuel.”

“Short words, huh?”

“Please.”

“Eek…!”

As magic flowed into her, she let out a weird moan.

Tougher than Aqua, she needed a lot to fully charge.

“Long way to go. Let’s move.”

“My life…” she muttered.

We soared leisurely toward our destination.

*

Reaper Mors was tougher than she looked.

Over 300 km in half a day.

Long or short, depending on perspective, but not something just anyone could do. Worthy of praise.

“You called me a loner but brought me ‘cause you’d be bored?” Yena grumbled, popping a piece of meat in her mouth.

We started early morning, arriving around 1 p.m.

It was lunchtime, so we hit a local barbecue joint.

“I’m buying lunch. Trained you and now feeding you—what better mentor is there?” I said.

“Never called you mentor,” she shot back.

“Figure of speech.”

I care about my juniors’ growth.

When I retire and hang up my transformation, I want a world where they can handle any crisis without me.

That’s why I hang with the fifth-gens.

“Another portion of ribeye,” Yena called, raising her hand.

I stared, and she frowned.

“What?”

“I said order what you want, but you’re really going for it.”

“Can’t work if I’m starving.”

Fair enough.

Since I’m treating, I won’t be stingy.

“Today’s grind will pay off later,” I said.

First-gens stood out not just because of Armo’s eye but because they were battle-hardened.

With fewer chances to push limits these days, draining and refilling magic like today could make Reaper Mors a legend.

“Sounds like something an old person would say,” Yena said.

Kkondae’s a trendy term, but that’s not me.

I just love my juniors.

“Eat your food.”