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Shen He handed a fast-acting nanite-infused healing bandage to Accelerator (Yifang Tongxing).
When it came to combat, Shen He never hesitated to dive in. Experience, strategy, and a guaranteed retreat to another dimension made him fearless—even the most fearsome enemies couldn't pursue Chaldea's Masters and Servants once they crossed world boundaries.
"Mikoto, how's your recon going?" Shen He asked, eyes still scanning the wet skyline as they rushed toward the next conflict.
"…" Misaka Mikoto hesitated. Her expression darkened momentarily, but she recovered with practiced composure. "I've nearly finished. I've mapped all standing military installations, the remaining Anbu units, and the exact coordinates of the Final Production Facility within Academy City. I was planning to brief you on it tonight."
"In that case—" Shen He glanced forward, eyes glowing faintly under the hood of his summoned spirit cloak, "—let's rescue Misaka today."
"…Got it."
The brief reply held weight. Years of trauma, loss, and injustice now converged into one moment.
The group fell silent again, shifting into full combat mode as they closed in on Kamijou Touma's last known location.
A distant rumble echoed across the nightscape. Then lightning flashed—not the artificial bolts conjured by esper powers or magical incantations, but true, unfiltered skyfire. Thunder cracked down as cold rain began falling, soaking the street with icy droplets. The atmosphere chilled instantly.
Shen He scowled. He disliked rain—it clung to his clothes, weighed him down. Annoying.
So, he summoned his guardian spirit, the Emperor-Eater. Clad in this protective ethereal armor, Shen He's senses sharpened dramatically.
Thud—thud.
The dull sound of heavy bodies hitting the ground tickled his enhanced hearing.
"Presence detected," Shen He murmured.
Ryougi Shiki—the twin-souled assassin known for wielding the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception—halted abruptly. Her katana rose before her in a guard stance.
Up ahead, just beyond a leaping wall of firelight, a lone figure stood in the middle of the road. Rain pelted down, glinting off her body. She carried no umbrella—just a simple, tattered yellow robe, cinched at the waist by a frayed sash. Her hair was bound beneath a cloth wrap.
She looked harmless… until you noticed the wreckage at her feet.
Armed guards lay scattered around her in heaps—shields broken, armor dented. All unconscious or worse.
BOOM!
Another blast rang out ahead, then another—then a third.
The tempo of warfare intensified. Chaldea's frontline units were locked in fierce battle.
"Accelerator," Shen He said evenly, not breaking stride. "Flank her. Engage only if necessary—but be you."
"You mean wipe out anything in my path."
Accelerator's bandaged head made him look absurd, but there was no mistaking the lethal gleam in his eyes. With a smirk, he activated his vector field and launched himself like a missile into the surrounding skyscrapers, moving to outmaneuver the mysterious woman.
Clang!
The sound of metal smashing echoed violently.
The woman raised her head. Her face was scarred with piercings—lips, nose, brows, even eyelids. A chain looped grotesquely from her tongue, falling to her waist where it linked to a jagged, cross-shaped ornament.
"Heh… superpowers," she rasped.
She grinned like a madwoman, and her voice trembled with gleeful loathing.
"Science. All of it. Science must die."
As if speaking to the storm itself, she slowly pulled out a crude mallet wrapped in barbed wire. Then she swung it.
Whoosh—!
Invisible force howled out, carving wind pressure that screamed through the street. The shockwave raced toward Accelerator's projected path.
CRACK—!
The attack narrowly missed. But as it dispersed, a secondary, twisting force followed—one that distorted airflow and pressured the lungs. Accelerator's eyes widened.
Low oxygen? Compression field?
"Another freak ability," he spat. Still wary from the strange interference moments earlier, he didn't press the assault. Instead, he amplified his control, altered trajectory, and withdrew with another aerial leap.
"He ran…"
The woman's lips curled downward, contorting into pure rage.
"He ran from science. Cowards. All science must be destroyed!"
Her mallet whirled faster and faster. Sonic booms rippled outward, shattering concrete, splintering light poles, and causing rain-soaked glass to explode from windows.
Street signs folded like paper. Craters formed under her feet.
She screamed, "DESTROY!"
Shiki didn't flinch. Her blade shimmered with pale light as she swiped in short arcs, slicing through incoming attacks with brutal efficiency.
Her Mystic Eyes—the Death Perception—read the mortality of everything, including spells and energy. To her, even this frenzied force could be cut and nullified.
In many ways, she was as dangerous as Kamijou Touma's right hand: a walking "fantasy killer."
Misaka Mikoto clenched a coin between her fingers, lightning crackling at her temples. "This isn't going well."
"Hold your power," Shen He said calmly. "If you strike in anger, you'll collapse like the guards."
He recognized the opponent immediately.
She was a member of God's Right Seat—specifically from the "Forward of the Wind," one of the Vatican's most secretive magical assault cadres. And she was no ordinary magician.
This was the Scourge Warlock—a so-called "Final Weapon Among Two Billion." Her ability deprived hostile minds of consciousness. Even the hint of aggression could render her opponents instantly unconscious.
Shen He suppressed all hostility, cooling his aura. He focused instead on pity.
After all, she was just a broken woman who'd once lost her brother in a science experiment gone wrong.
Still, it was a dangerous impasse.
He couldn't order an attack. Couldn't risk it.
And something was wrong.
The real "Wind Ahead" was articulate, sharp—an assassin who spoke in riddles, not screams. The woman here was just… a lunatic.
"Would've been nice if you said that earlier," Ryougi Shiki muttered. "I've been waiting for you to cue an attack."
Her blade trembled with restrained energy.
Shiki didn't carry "hostility."
She carried pure killing intent—calculated and detached.
Beside her, Qi Mu Nanxiong drifted silently into the air. He had long sworn not to kill with his abilities. But he could still support. Using psychokinesis, he manipulated air currents and energy fields to enhance Shiki's momentum and precision.
In perfect sync, he created paths, deflected debris, and blocked incoming force without ever "targeting" the enemy directly.
The battle resumed—but this time, not as a war of power…
…but a test of restraint.
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