Episode 4: The Witch of Pisces
Black phosphorescence.
Flashes of gunfire.
Countless gun barrels, connected, communicating, and commanded through M-particles, grazed the scattered fragments of Viola Purple’s flesh and the cheek of Strawberry Pink, protected by M-particles.
Within the gunfire’s haze, it was there.
An inhuman being, smiling as countless unmanned turret emplacements floated in the air around her.
A dress of magic cyberwear, corrupted by M-particles, dyed black, its edges fraying and coming undone.
Beneath a skirt overflowing with frills were legs that were not human. Sleek, streamlined, reminiscent of a fish, and grotesquely overburdened with magic cyberwear: a tail.
No legs.
Her expression concealed behind a jet-black mask.
A gaunt, emaciated girl, floating by the power of M-particles, with the tail of a fish.
A demon, commanding countless turrets as she pointed her thin, wasted fingers at Strawberry Pink.
“Consulting database… error. Attempting communications… error. Requesting reinforcements… error. Hah! I see, I see!”
Strawberry Pink tried to manipulate the M-particles. But what she felt at her fingertips was not the familiar response of thought-communication. It was the sensation of everything being obstructed.
Jamming.
The reason her communications with Viola Purple had been severed was concentrated in the being before her… in the [Witch].
“So it’s you! The [Witch of Pisces]!
“A survivor of the Battle of Hakodate!
“A poor, pitiful adult girl who could no longer be a magical girl!”
Strawberry Pink narrowed her eyes as she dodged the turrets’ concentrated barrage in a flash of pink light.
“Then I’ll defeat you. I’ll fucking kill you.”
A streak of pink raced forward: the Monofilament Whip.
The haze was sliced apart.
Fragments of buildings, pulverised by explosions and cutting strikes, were themselves carved to pieces at tremendous speed. The countless turrets dancing through the air were no exception. They should have been—
“Heh.”
Black phosphorescence.
It collided with the pink and burst.
The turrets did not fall. Their countless gun barrels continued to take aim at Strawberry Pink.
“Ah, I get it. Of course. We’re the same, aren’t we…!”
Strawberry Pink drew out her thread. Pink filaments formed a wall.
Gunfire pierced it.
The wall was punctured.
Threads snapped and flew apart.
Bullets wreathed in black phosphorescence, in M-particles, bore down on her.
She dodged at the last possible instant, but blood trickled down Strawberry Pink’s cheek.
M-particles could be neutralised by M-particles.
The magic that shielded a girl from every impact could be pierced only by that same magic.
Only a magical girl could kill a witch, and only a witch could kill a magical girl.
A battle to the death between girls equipped with the same Magus Engine. Let your defences slip, and you died.
They resembled a school of fish.
Countless turrets, floating through the air on M-particles and operating through M-particles.
Fitted with machine guns, rocket launchers, shotguns. A swarm of unmanned gun emplacements, moving together as though obeying a single will.
They were just like a shoal of sardines.
Each one was small and insignificant.
But when they moved in unison, surging and twisting together, they descended like a storm…
“Urgh, come on! Enough already!”
A bullet grazed her.
She sent a pink thread flying.
Her target was the witch’s neck. To sever it.
But the witch’s emaciated fingers, suffused with black light, reached out and—
Caught the thread.
“Shit!”
By the time she realised what had happened, it was too late.
The Magus Engine roared, its operating noise resembling a girl’s scream.
The surging energy granted vitality beyond all natural limits to the witch’s wasted body. She gripped the thread, pulled, and reeled Strawberry Pink in, drawing her towards the kill zone at point-blank range…!
“Not… a chance!”
The instant she was pulled in—
The Magus Engine roared again, this time with a pink resonance.
Strawberry Pink’s right arm, glove and all, was severed.
Her severed forearm revealed what lay beneath the cut: cables carrying circulating M-particles, chrome-steel bones, flesh made of synthetic bioplastic. The very things that made a magical girl a magical girl. The remnants of her modifications.
Sacrificing the arm of her magic cyberwear—
At point-blank range, the concentrated turret barrage scorched the severed forearm black. Blew it apart. Shot it to pieces. Pounded it into submission, sending soft flesh dancing through the air.
Every turret attacked Strawberry Pink’s severed forearm.
That was exactly what Strawberry Pink had been counting on.
The single instant when every gun barrel was pointed elsewhere.
“Check.”
In her remaining left hand, Strawberry Pink held it.
“Mate!”
The staff of her magic cyberdeck.
Strawberry Pink brought the rod-shaped device crashing down against the witch’s heart…!