Expansion.
Contraction.
Shattering.
Suppressing the vibrations that appeared out of nowhere was no simple task, like trying to catch water droplets flung off after washing one’s hands.
Lower it, please, just a bit more.
The piercing alarm blared in their ears.
This time, it wasn’t some empty area but the densely populated heart of the city.
Seizing that fleeting moment, the purple-haired girl let out a soft sigh and opened her eyes.
This place was once part of a street lined with buildings, now reduced to a bowl-shaped crater.
The shops and streetlights within had vanished along with the once-smooth pavement, leaving only jagged scars, as if a massive typhoon had torn through.
The affected area… about eighty meters, perhaps?
Unlike the last time, when she manifested in midair above the suburbs and only the shockwave grazed the ground, this descent into the city brought destruction that was no laughing matter.
Even though her control was better than before, she couldn’t suppress it further.
Keeping the impact radius to a few dozen meters was the girl’s limit, yet the scene before her still bore the marks of a disaster’s aftermath.
Turning the street into this mess means I can’t just wait calmly for the Self-Defense Forces to show up for a game of cat and mouse like last time…
With a push of her feet, spiritual energy lifted her body, and the girl leaped into the air, instinctively scanning the surrounding terrain.
This feels… somewhat familiar… Not recognition, but an impression.
Returning there meant sinking back into slumber, so her memories of manifesting were especially vivid.
If I’m not mistaken, I was just here last time…
This city had seen its share of calamities—three times, by her count, including this one.
In that case…
Without preparing an escape route, the girl landed back on the ground, stretched her body with a slight backward lean, and yawned.
A crimson light traced a beautiful arc, her armored claw slammed down, and the girl sank, leaving behind what seemed like a fathomless tunnel.
***
“Tch, they sure move fast. It’s only been two days.”
With a slightly annoyed click of her tongue, Kotori Itsuka, clad loosely in her military uniform as always, settled into her commander’s seat.
She accepted the Double Chupa Chups offered by Kyōhei Kannazuki, who knelt on one knee, and with practiced ease, tore open the wrapper, tossing it onto his face like trash.
Shidou Itsuka had a slight issue with his sister’s behavior, but the man’s faintly panting, delighted expression made him abandon any thoughts of lecturing her.
Maybe this is just normal around here?
Still not fully accustomed to the daily life aboard Fraxinus, the mildly embarrassed boy turned his gaze to the frozen image on the screen ahead.
“Play that part again,” he said.
Even though they’d rushed to the command room immediately after the alert, time didn’t stop while they ran.
Fraxinus wasn’t a classroom but an entire airship, and by the time the siblings arrived, the explosion had already occurred.
Following Kotori’s orders, the command room crew had rewound the footage to the moment the spacequake alarm first sounded.
This was to give Shidou Itsuka a more visceral understanding of the destructive power of a “Spacequake.”
As the footage played, even the aerial cameras captured the violent tremors.
The destructive light wave spread outward, pausing for a split second before vanishing.
The scenery that had been in view moments ago was gone, as if scooped out by a giant spoon.
“So, what do you think? You’ve seen the aftermath of spacequakes on TV, but this is your first time observing the process from afar, right, Shidou?”
Kotori paused the footage and tilted her head toward her brother.
“Spacequake…”
It was different from when he’d been running around searching for his sister.
Back then, exhaustion and his focus on Tohka had distracted him.
Kotori was right—this was his first time truly witnessing the “occurrence” of a spacequake.
“Probably a C-class, maybe… Looks like that’s the best she can do to limit the damage.”
Kotori’s gaze returned to the screen, her index finger and thumb absently twirling the candy stick as she squinted.
“That’s the best…?”
“Oh, did I not mention? My bad for overestimating your kindergarten-level comprehension, Shidou,” she said, slipping into her usual sharp-tongued mode.
The commander, now in her element, continued after roasting her brother.
“Beast’s spacequake is rated B-class in the records. Normally, her manifestation would cause destruction across a two-kilometer radius, leveling everything.”
By all accounts, the damage should have spread further, but that brief pause was clearly the result of deliberate suppression.
Still, the destruction that had occurred couldn’t be undone—spacequakes were not something spirits could fully resolve on their own.
“Well, a spirit’s spacequake rating is based on the maximum destruction they’ve caused, recorded in the archives. The scale of a spacequake isn’t fixed when a spirit manifests. No one can predict how much damage they’ll cause next time.”
“The highest known level, an SSS-class spacequake, has only happened once—thirty years ago, during the ‘Eurasian Air Disaster.’ But who’s to say a spirit’s next manifestation won’t cause that level of devastation again?”
Kotori’s expression carried a hint of mockery, and Shidou keenly noticed it—an expression expecting him to take a stand.
Give up now.
Don’t try to help something that could become a terrifying ticking time bomb.
Killing spirits is the only logical choice.
“If you went all out, Kotori, what kind of spacequake could you cause?”
Shidou asked, catching her off guard.
Oh, you actually thought to ask that?
Maybe you’ve got some brains after all.
He could read that in her surprised look.
“Hmph, I’ve never tried, but if I went all out with a spacequake… probably B-class, like her. One or two kilometers, give or take.”
That he’d even thought to ask showed Shidou was trying to adapt to the situation.
“Continue.”
Easing off the pressure, Kotori raised her hand, and the footage resumed.
The purple-haired spirit girl opened her eyes at the center of the crater, glanced around, then flew upward, as if inspecting the terrain below before landing back in the pit.
She stretched, tilting her body slightly and flipping her palms outward in what looked like a casual yawn.
Her gaze drifted toward the camera, lips moving slightly.
Then she lowered her head, a red light flashed, and her palm struck the ground, sinking her into it.
“Another tunnel, huh… If she keeps this up, her designation might change from Beast to Nidhoggg,” Kotori said, raising an eyebrow with mild exasperation.
“Is that because of the red laser she shot from her eyes just now, Commander?!”
Kyōhei piped up.
“It’s because she can burrow underground, escalating her threat and making her hard to drive off, you idiot!”
Kotori snapped.
“Pfft—cough!”
A vein pulsed on her forehead. She knew Kyōhei was just trying to lighten the mood for the strategy meeting, but when he leaned in with his stomach exposed, Kotori didn’t hesitate to reward him with an elbow strike.
This wasn’t baseless clowning.
Like the mythical dragon gnawing at the roots of the world tree, this spirit’s actions posed a unique threat.
The Realizer’s Territory struggled to function in confined spaces, making it hard to track the spirit’s movements.
Most critically, when the spacequake alarm sounded, civilians fled to shelters—all located underground.
For a spirit who could effortlessly dig tunnels and move at high speed, expelling her was near impossible for the Self-Defense Forces.
If she chose to, she could easily cause massive casualties, spreading the panic that spacequakes weren’t natural disasters but catastrophes caused by spirits.
Not just the Self-Defense Forces—even Fraxinus would struggle to detect her spiritual energy deep underground and track her.
Beast’s threat level was rising rapidly.
“She said something to the camera, didn’t she? When she looked up…”
The blue-haired boy pointed at the screen thoughtfully, and the footage rewound to comply.
“Here, zoom in!”
The image enlarged, showing the girl staring directly at the camera, as if aware she was being watched, her lips moving.
“No audio. Anyone read lips?”
Kotori glanced around, met with a chorus of head shakes.
“She said ‘date,’” Reine Murasame, who had been silent while adjusting the video’s timestamp, swayed as if about to collapse and spoke flatly.
“Cute little demon girl~”
“She said ‘date’…?”
The words seemed to echo in Kotori’s ears.
Her eye twitched, and she shook her head.
“But she just dug a tunnel and left!”
“About that,” Reine said, pulling up another screen.
“Beast’s spiritual energy signature hasn’t moved from that spot.”
It was as if she were waiting for someone, unbothered by the threat of Self-Defense Force attacks.
“…”
All eyes in the command room turned to Kotori, whose expression stiffened.