[Human Alliance – Eastern Sub-Alliance]
A dozen people sat in a tense meeting in a small conference room.
A middle-aged man in a suit, with graying hair, stood at the front, presenting a PowerPoint.
He switched to the first slide, titled: Codename: Lightning Man.
Someone raised their hand.
It was a young man with glasses, looking a bit nerdy.
“What’s your question?” the middle-aged man called on him.
The glasses-wearing man stood, bowed slightly to the room, and asked, “Uh… Boss, why mix Chinese and English? It’s hard to say. Why not just Lightning Man or The Flash?”
The middle-aged man replied, “The Flash infringes copyright, and Lightning Man is too plain, not international enough. Mixing languages is global, aiming big! Sit down.”
The glasses man sat, typing notes on his laptop.
The middle-aged man began: “This meeting is about the newly emerged Lightning Man. First, let’s watch a video.”
He stepped aside, letting the projector play.
The footage was from a high-altitude perspective, showing Magical Girls Yinlin and Jinluan.
The battle was over, and Yinlin was searching inside a blasted crater.
A black shadow flashed across the screen, too blurry to make out, almost like signal interference.
The middle-aged man asked, “Did everyone see what happened?”
The glasses man raised his hand again.
The middle-aged man nodded at him.
He stood, bowed, and said, “A figure called Lightning Man appeared and took something from the crater.”
The middle-aged man: “Good, sit. Correct.”
He switched to a new slide—a photo, somewhat clear, showing the shadow’s owner: a blue-skinned man, roughly two meters tall.
His muscles weren’t bulky but stronger than an average man’s, not frail by any means.
Bald, dressed in a tight suit.
The video caught him bending to pick something up, his slowest moment.
The middle-aged man continued: “Based on our intel, Lightning Man is likely a cadre-level demon.”
Gasps filled the room.
Whispers broke out.
“Cadre-level demon? For real?”
“Last time was the Thousand Cage Island incident, right?”
“Is Thousand Cage Island happening again?”
“Magical girls can’t handle them—what do we do?”
The middle-aged man’s face soured, coughing twice: “Still talking about magical girls? We’re humanity’s strongest shield. Our duty is to restore humanity’s glory—it’s our unshirkable responsibility. Relying on magical girls for everything? How do you have the face to stay in the Human Alliance?”
The glasses man raised his hand again.
The middle-aged man gave him the floor.
He stood, bowed, and said, “But isn’t our role like the defense team in Ultraman? Assisting magical girls to handle demons is enough, right? Can we really take on a cadre-level demon?”
The middle-aged man’s face darkened further. “Are you with the Witch Faction?”
The glasses man adjusted his glasses: “Yes.”
The middle-aged man shut his mouth, avoiding the topic, and refocused on Lightning Man, discussing how to handle this suspected cadre-level demon.
The Witch Faction, a pro-magical girl group within the Human Alliance, actively opposed the Facial Recognition Bill, Prism Plan, and Magical Girl Management Bill.
They had members across all levels, from high-ranking officials to grassroots, but remained a minority compared to the opposition.
The Witch Faction had strong public support, which gave them influence over Alliance decisions despite their smaller numbers.
The meeting continued, debating Lightning Man solutions.
First, bolster city defenses with 24-hour helicopter patrols.
Then, send a team to Thousand Cage Island to search for Lightning Man’s traces.
The glasses man suggested contacting magical girls to exchange intel.
The middle-aged man shot it down with a single vote.
Humanity’s glory would be restored by humans—magical girls could go play cute elsewhere.
[Barbecue Shop Entrance]
“Huang Yijun let’s go, it’s almost time.”
“Little Zhou, don’t scam me, man. I’ve got work tomorrow. If I go with you, I won’t have time to sleep.”
“No scam, you saw the photo!”
Huang Yijun was already chummy with the chubby kid, calling him brother.
After paying, they didn’t split up, planning to hit the milk tea shop together.
Song Wuli cut in: “That photo’s fake. Phone filters make anyone look good. Real persons probably one-tenth that level.”
Huang Yijun thought it over, nodding—it made sense—and glanced at Little Zhou.
Zhou, fired up, explained: “Don’t talk nonsense! The photo doesn’t do her justice. She’s way prettier in person—a literal goddess.”
Song Wuli: “If she’s that good-looking, why’s she working at a place like that?”
Zhou found Song Wuli annoying, always nitpicking and badmouthing.
“She’s working soon—you’ll see.”
Song Wuli: “It’s late, what, 9:30 p.m.? Nightclubs start that late, not milk tea shops.”
Huang Yijun nodded again—made sense. What milk tea shop girl works at 9:30 p.m.?
Zhou: “The manager scheduled her. She’s definitely working soon.”
Song Wuli: “Even if she’s scheduled, doesn’t mean she’ll show.”
Zhou: “She’s super nice, never late. If she’s scheduled, she’ll be there.”
“Hold up, Old Song,” Huang Yijun interjected. “Why do you keep badmouthing her? You’ve got some serious beef with this girl.”
Song Wuli: “I’m just being real, trying to save you from disappointment. You’ve been obsessed with magical girls lately—like you’re possessed.”
“Hey, Old Song, that reminds me,” Huang Yijun slung an arm around him, reeking of beer. “A few days ago, I saw those high heels you drew. Something off about them—why do they look so much like Yinlin’s shoes?”
Huang Yijun’s suspicious stare hit Song Wuli, who broke into a cold sweat, mind blank, unable to respond.
Huang Yijun’s suspicion deepened.
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That what happen when you try to force thing