Chapter 7: God Said No

"Listen here missvelt."

Solfin's eyes locked hard on Dumya as he announced, his hand reaching in to settle his phone back into his pocket following the short call with Shinpei.

"Any other spell from yours and I'll be forced to waste a bullet, and a very rare denvelt"

Could she be..She only has one foot. It's...

Who am I kidding, it's obviously a Dasvelt.

"You just wait here and I'll put-in a word for you with the containment team, they'll be gentle."

Didn't the international committee confirm their extinction? where...

"If you don't mind me asking, where were you hiding all these years, miss?"

Dumya did not process a word the mage before her had thrown, her solemn face reflected simple shapes.

Solfin almost began another of his threats if not for Dumya's raised hand.

It pointed up towards the passing clouds, now moving backwards.

"I said, no spells miss." what's the deal now?

Dumya's stance did not budge.

"Can't you speak—” a droplet of water had taken him by surprise and he slid to the side onto the cold pavement, he then looked up.

An immense shadow fell over the street, as the city seemed to be painted a dark hue from the moist, blue clouds condensing.

Clouds that would soon turn into a dark grey teetering on the edge of black.

It's late spring. That raindrop. It had a very unique signature of mana.

I am positive, no, I'm sure I've sensed it before.

This is the works of a skilled mage, the only one I know capable of this, where was he, 16 years ago—Oh shit!

This is not good, the absolute worst. How did I forget!

Of course he would be here. That explains missvelt. That explains everything!

Something sour's gonna happen today if I don't act.

Pit-put-put-pot–pit

As rain pooled over both him and Dumya, Solfin panic-swiped through the contacts on his phone,

Looking for Shinpei's number.

Chapter 7: God Said No.

6:52 am, The light fortress -Tokyo.

The screech that had seared across Tokyo finally faded, leaving only its ghostly echo in the hollow vault of the Light Fortress where Tetsuo Shinpei stood. His distorted shadow, thrown long and thin by the emergency lighting, had just completed an impressive panic-induced leap.

Now gravity being the mediocre therapist she is, had settled him unceremoniously back onto the polished floor.

Will this stupid shift ever end?

Clutching the staff at his side, Shinpei bolted for the nearest elevator on Level 9. The fortress’s dim, post-alarm lighting had turned the familiar hallway into a gauntlet of vague shapes and deep shadows, forcing him to tread like a man on ice.

And then, as if to personally spite him, the hem of his brand-new uniform jacket caught on the corner of the last workstation.

“Hey—!”

What followed was less a stumble and more a protracted, graceless dance. He pinwheeled, fighting for balance, and lost spectacularly, landing with a hard THUD directly on his shoulder, the impact singing through his bones like an angry hornet. But he held his composure well,

Just kill me.

For a long moment, he didn’t move. He just lay there, feeling the surprisingly plush carpet against his cheek. Fighting a somewhat random, profound urge to simply sleep right there.

He’s… right, the lighting here is kind of nice, reminds me of my childh-

“No!”

Still meddling with the stubborn urge, he fully sprang back onto his feet, 

Sleeping on the first day at work is a bad bad look.

Shinpei took a deep, steadying breath.

He glanced at the emergency stairs,

Then at the elevator doors,

Then back at the stairs,

Then at the elevator again.

Sigh I hate cardio.

The elevator had won.

You see, Shinpei was a very intellectual person, whatever that means. Leveraging this seasoned intellect, he decided to use some basic flair magic to illuminate his path and avoid another painful reunion with the floor. Here in the ironically-dim light fortress. 

Hell did they come up with that name?

He reached for his belt.

And he reached.

And he reached again.

Cold Panic sweats began a slow crawl down his skin.

“Where’s my beautiful, 4000-yen staff?”

His hands patted down his torso in a frantic ritual: chest, sides, back, thighs. Once, twice, three times. Nothing. The void at his hip yawned wider.

Employing his finest deductive skills, he turned his attention to his pants and whispered, “ Where the fuck is my stupid fucking staff? ”

His pants, who were well-versed in their rights, remained silent.

For a long time he’d felt insecure about his staff, his training mates back in Australia used to shun him at any given chance,

“Oi, Shockaroo! Put that copper stick away before you short-circuit the barbie!”

The same old joke again and again and yet they laughed at it, every single damn time. Just what’s so funny about being broke?

His staff was topped by consecutive copper rings, mirroring the many creations of Nicholas Tesla. Some even called him ‘A walking junk drawer’. Yeah, not even a creative tesla pun.

His mind raced. The train? The konbini?-where he’d bought a sad breakfast sandwich?

Where could it possibly be?

A spike of adrenaline hit his system as he began upturning nearby chairs, the plastic shells clattering against the floor. “Shit, what am I thinking? I just had it to scare that weirdo a minute ago! Shit. Shit. Shit… Wait.”

He froze, the paranoia cooling into a realization.

“I work for the best magic league in Asia. Maybe the world. I’m… I’m not broke anymore.”

A slow, disbelieving smile spread across his face. “I can just… buy another one.” The smile broke into a laugh, a sharp, loud “HA!” that bounced off the empty walls.

He could walk into the local police department right now and order a staff plated in silver, wrapped in mahogany, humming with top-tier amplification crystals,. He had the budget code. He had the authority. He could even get a tuna sandwich if he wanted to.

“HAhahahahaa!”

…

“But… it’s not the same.”

That realization had pulled the hysterical smile right off his face.

He stood there in the empty guest room, the echo of his own laugh dying in his throat.

He wasn’t just some apprentice running away from monsters in some random field near Melbourne anymore.

This staff.. this was the one he’d grown up with. The one he’d mend each copper ring by hand-on some stolen pipe frame during lunch breaks at his old warehouse job.

The staff that sparked and hissed unpredictably, that sometimes gave him a static shock when he was nervous, like it was feeling his mood…

The 4000 yen was a lie he told to sound less pathetic. Its real cost was measured in failed spells, shunning looks, and lazy puns.

“Shockaroo…” he muttered to the empty air, the old nickname now a dull memory. It was the thing he’d had when he had nothing else.

His stupid, beautiful staff.

“No time for sentiment. No time for procurement. They don’t pay you for that stuff.”

He slapped his own cheeks, the sting a welcome-back-to-reality.

He had a job to do. He was about to go investigate that unholy screech. And he was about to do it unarmed, depressed, and officially ushered into a new era of his life, leaving behind a broken one, one full of cortisol spikes and unjust wages.

A ‘broke’ one.

Mirroring a minute ago he took two determined steps directed at the elevator door, same door which from the constant delay now felt like a gate hiding in its backyard a merciless boss fight.

On the third step though, the world decided to rotate.

The world wasn’t moving, of course. Shinpei was falling. Again.

Something hard and cylindrical beneath his foot had flatlined his balance, sending him into another tragic, flailing dance. He hit the floor with a definitive THUMP, right on the same complaining shoulder.

This time, he didn’t get up. He just lay there, staring at the marvelously boring expanse of acoustic ceiling tiles.

I… I…

I totally don’t want to sh**t myself in the head right now. I totally wanna live. I totally believe in humanity, me being part of it. I totally believe that heaven and its angels are servants of our satisfaction, and that humans shouldn’t burn in eternal hellfire this very moment. I totally, totally, totally love my job!

You see, Shinpei was an optimist at heart. A weak but familiar strategy for holding back tears.

The object that had tripped him was familiar. A small pole of copper, topped by consecutive rings. He knew it just from the feel under his shoe.

“Shockaroo…” A muffled sniff escaped him. “Why would you do this to me?”

He moved like a frog pouncing on a fly, scooping the staff from the ground and pulling it into a warm, ridiculous embrace. No one in this world can separate us. No one.

BEEP! BEEP!

I said no one.

BEEP! BEEP!

Is that my phone?

BEEP! BEEP!

Uh, not the time.

BEEP! B—

“For heaven’s sake!” He fumbled, answering. “Hello? Hell you calling me at 7 AM for?”

An unexpected voice answered. “Tet—Tetsuo?”

Oh, capital ‘C’ Crap.