Chapter 33: State of emergency.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Cherry Fiore.”
“I’m Metaphorte.”

In a rural village where buses come infrequently and a car is a must, two girls—one with cherry-red hair, the other with pale purple—introduced themselves.

“I’m Reaper Mors. This one needs no introduction, but she’s Scarlet Lily,” Reaper Mors said, taking the lead as the nominal senior.

Their gazes locked onto me.

“I’ve heard a lot about you. They say you can take down S-grade monsters with ease,” Cherry Fiore said, smiling warmly.

She had a gentle demeanor for a magical girl.

Even with her physical age fixed during transformation, she exuded maturity—a reliable senior vibe.

“I’m just a bit stronger than most,” I replied.

“Heh, so modest,” she said with a chuckle.

Reaper Mors glanced around. “You live out here?”

The view was all rice fields, mountains, and more mountains.

Not exactly a young person’s paradise.

“Nah, our homes are far off. It’s just easier to meet near the gate since commuting’s a hassle,” Cherry Fiore explained.

Rural magical girls aren’t always local.

They cover their home city and surrounding villages, overseeing areas far larger than those of capital-region magical girls.

“Smart move. I’m sick of flying,” Reaper Mors said.

“What do you mean?” Metaphorte asked.

“We flew from Seoul to here.”

“No way. That distance…?”

“I thought it was crazy too, but we made it. Thanks to Lily juicing me up with magic.”

Their eyes turned to me again.

Long-distance flight, magic infusion—stuff that got out when I put out that wildfire.

It’s awkward when they react like this every time.

“Your outfit’s unique. So this is the ‘landmine’ style?” Cherry Fiore said, shifting attention to Reaper Mors.

“Yup. Better than magical girl frills, right?”

“Maybe, but you could be mistaken for a civilian.”

“Ugh… calling out my flaws like that.”

Frilly, fluttery clothes stand out but are casual.

Individuality versus recognizability.

Reaper Mors groaned, conflicted.

We checked out the glitched gate and returned to the village.

“Heard about it, but it’s wild. Never seen anything like this,” Reaper Mors said.

No monsters, yet it doesn’t close.

I’d never encountered this either.

“It was smaller before. Keeps growing bit by bit,” Metaphorte said, worried it might become a mega-gate.

“Heard there was a commotion at dawn?” I asked.

“Total chaos. Fought till morning, then slept through school,” she replied.

“No wonder you look exhausted.”

It’s Friday, a school day.

Metaphorte, a high schooler, must’ve gone to class.

Students have their own struggles.

“This place is huge,” Reaper Mors noted.

The village had no hotels, so we got the community center.

A few small rooms, a kitchen, a TV, a fridge, and a microwave—all pushed to the corners, leaving the center empty.

“Better than cramped,” I said.

“Yeah,” Metaphorte agreed.

Too spacious for four, but she was right.

We couldn’t camp by the gate, so we’d stay here on standby.

Me, Reaper Mors, and Metaphorte rested while Cherry Fiore stayed at the site.

The support team’s gate analysis crew had arrived, and she went to meet them.

They were investigating the glitch with special equipment.

“We’ve gotta head back by Sunday at the latest. Hope it’s done before then,” Reaper Mors said, laying out bedding.

“Yeah, since you came all this way, I hope it’s not a waste,” Metaphorte said, suddenly polite.

“You’re still transformed—talk casually,” Reaper Mors told her.

“Oh… I’m just used to this.”

“Fair enough.”

She used casual speech with me, as a peer, but formal with Reaper Mors.

The magical girl tradition is no hierarchy, so maybe it’s a rural thing?

“Hope you and Cherry get close during this stay,” I said.

I claimed I brought Reaper Mors for company, but I also wanted her to bond with a fourth-gen here, as the support team mentioned.

“Meddling junior. You should focus on getting along with Metaphorte,” Reaper Mors shot back, playing senior in front of others.

“Obviously I will. Unlike you, I’ve got friends among my peers.”

“Low blow…”

The loner dug her own grave.

“Seems like there’s barely any distance between seniors and juniors in the capital,” Metaphorte said, intrigued by our dynamic.

“Only Lily’s like this. She needs to respect her seniors,” Reaper Mors teased.

“Then act respectable,” I countered.

She’s asking for it.

Just wait—on the way back, it’s Spartan mode.

“I think you shouldn’t disrespect seniors,” Metaphorte said firmly.

Did I cross a line?

“Sorry if I offended you. I’ll tone it down,” I said.

“No, that’s not what I meant…”

Metaphorte paused, then continued.

“I respect Cherry-senpai. She gave up her dreams to fulfill her duties as a magical girl.”

Cherry Fiore had been a rising star in the arts but was swayed by a mascot’s sweet talk into signing a contract.

Diligent and responsible, she worked hard to uphold the obligations that came with her power.

In the end, she sacrificed her dreams.

And who’d have thought the second Armo’s misdeeds would come up?

“So that’s why you’re so respectful?” I asked.

“Yup.”

A role model like Frozen Princess, yet distinct.

Damn mascots, stirring up trouble.

I’m pissed.

“She deserves more respect. She’s not in the capital, but everyone should recognize this,” Metaphorte said.

Reaper Mors and I could only nod.

Six analysts were dispatched.

The gate wasn’t closing—it was growing.

One or two could analyze it with specialized gear, but six came to monitor it 24/7 in shifts.

“Any findings?” Cherry Fiore asked, uneasy.

“Odd. The magic’s so faint it should close soon,” an analyst said.

“No sign of closing?”

“No clue. We’ve never seen this.”

They pulled out a rod inserted into the gate, equipped with sensors for magic and special wavelengths.

“Can’t you stick a camera in?” she asked.

“Coming from the other side’s easy, but going in’s tough. Only a rare few can enter the demon world.”

Gates vary, despite appearances.

Ones humans can cross into the demon world are exceedingly rare over the past decade.

“That’s tricky. Ever seen this before?”

Monsters emerging is one thing, but not knowing when makes it impossible to relax.

“Gates vary, but nothing this extreme,” the analyst said.

“Could it stay open forever?”

“It’s bigger, but the readings are stable. It’s opening slowly, so it’ll probably close once everything’s out.”

The expert’s take eased her mind.

“We’ll keep watch in shifts, so you can rest, Cherry Fiore.”

“Thanks,” she said.

Everyone did their part.

A feat made possible by government and magical girl cooperation.

From Friday evening, the analysts worked in pairs, rotating shifts.

Ready for a repeat of the previous night’s chaos.

They watched all day, but nothing happened.

Boring enough to yawn.

Then, Saturday evening.

“What the—”

An analyst eating cup ramen froze.

Beep-beep-beep.*

The sensor blared.

One hand holding ramen, the other chopsticks, he checked the laptop.

The calm graph spiked near-vertical.

Magic levels surged.

“Crazy… monsters are coming! Call the magical girls!”

Ferocious roars echoed from the black rift.

Emergency.

They’d never seen readings like this.

Hundreds of monsters could pour out.

The analysts ditched their ramen and scrambled, and soon, sirens wailed across the village.