“IT’S A FUCKING GUN!”

The sentence hung in the air. Mila felt the confusion their side was experiencing. Laura raised her sword guardedly - unclear of why Andrew had sounded so surprised and terrified. Her team did the same, albeit slower. They still had to fight off the enemies.

It wasn’t like the enemies weren’t surprised. They knew something unexpected happened and rushed to capitalise on it, forcing back the intruders.

Meanwhile, Mila tried to recall everything she knew about guns. There wasn’t much. She knew it was a ranged weapon that propelled bullets with the help of… explosions?

That was about it. Mila knew they were deadly weapons, but she just couldn’t remember their limits and properties. But she did notice Isabel palling. Her girl moved her shield in front of Mila, prioritising the smaller girl’s safety first.

Normally… Yes, normally, Mila would have trusted Isabel’s barriers to withstand a piece of iron flying at high speeds, but…

This place, this room, it hindered anything magic - a restriction a mechanical weapon didn’t share. There was still hope the deadly tool would not work after so many years of existing in this world.

Of course, Mila didn’t believe that hope. Despite the heat the ball of mana produced, she felt cold sweat run down her back.

If Zemny did shoot at them… Isabel would never leave Mila unprotected. If the aim…

Mila had to think. There had to be something she could do. Mila desperately sent her emotions to her companion, hoping he could do something. But all she received back was confusion. The ghost of a man did not know what a gun was.

Helly’s wild screams continued as she clawed forward, ignoring all else and earning injury after injury. But despite her recklessness, none of the wounds were debilitating.

There was a good reason for it, too. Mila and several others had noticed how every time Helly was about to receive a deadly blow, she mysteriously dodged or the attacker messed up.

Mila suspected it was Polonomia who helped the hateable woman from outside the room. She also speculated it was the reason Azan and his strongest goons had not made their move yet.

But Zemny didn’t care. He waved around the gun as if it was a magical wand about to fulfil all his wishes. “Haha, stop moving around, or I’ll show you the magic that has crossed planes to get to us!” He raved. “Stay still and be chopped in pieces.”

Of course, no one did that. Guaranteed death was still worse than something unknown. That said, Andrew was pulling back while the Wolf tried to put his large body between his bond and the crazy scientist.

Even Azan was getting annoyed by his comrade's antics. “Stop fooling around. Use the tool.” He was direct.

“Right, right,” Zemny nodded along. “Who will it be first?”

“We need those two girls alive. The tiny one understands the ritual. She could help with our predicament.”

“She has been messing around with my work.” Zemny hissed, then pointed the gun at Mila.

The move made Isabel tense up, lower herself and wrap her hands around Mila. She did not look anywhere else but at the gun. “...protect…”

“Isabel…” Mila did not know what to do. She couldn’t get away from her girl. She was far too weak, and Isabel too determined.

“Zemny…” There was a warning in Azan’s voice.

A warning Zemny ignored. “No one knows more about the ritual than I do. She is unneeded.”

The time slowed down for Mila as her mind worked in overdrive. She saw Zemny’s finger twitch on the trigger. She knew he was glaring at her with eyes full of hate for daring to disrupt the ritual.

Then, the man grinned-

“Father…” Mortimer’s voice sounded feeble and insecure in the middle of the ongoing battle. It was a miracle the thief had spoken up. “...Stop…”

But it carried all the way to the madman, making his face twist into surprise. Mila didn’t dare to avert her eyes from the pointed gun, but the whole room seemed to shift as Mortimer made his presence known.

Azan frowned. Lazlo attempted to cast something but failed his illusions to materialise this close to the mana ball. And Zemny…

“Why are you here, boy!” Zemny spat out. “You should be back home. At least there you would survive.”

It felt strange. Mila felt the surroundings calm down. The sounds of battle were now much less desperate. And Azan’s following words explained the strangeness.

“...Who is the one with your boy, Zemny?” The leader finally pulled out his weapon. It was clear he was feeling the threat from one of the newcomers.

It could only be Polonomia. Her task was to defend Mortimer. Or at least, that’s what the Sage had said.

“T-they will die!” Mortimer’s voice was high-pitched and desperate. “The whole city! You will kill them! Children, and elderly and…”

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“Too soft!” Zemny scoffed. “And they won’t die. We already have what we need. The ritual was never meant to raze the city.”

“-but, she-” Mortimer hicuped. “I trust her words more than yours! I saw how the guards barred everyone’s escape paths!” He sounded braver the more he spoke.

“Impossible. That was not-” Zemny began to frown. His face twisted and churned as he considered his son’s words. “Azan!” He finally growled, his gun slowly moving to point towards the imposing man.

“What? Did you think I would trust your estimations? It was better to make sure we have a surplus of fuel than not enough.”

“No, no, no…” Zemny shook his head in denial. “It couldn’t be you… You don’t know enough.”

The drama on the stage was cute and to their advantage… But Mila felt the sense of crisis still growing. The squabbling had diverted everyone's attention away from her and Isabel, but outside… The unmentionable threat remained. She nudged Isabel, who began slowly moving to the side. They had engraving to do.

“...Father. People will die-” Mortimer pleaded. “ARE dying. You have to-”

“Not now, Mortimer,” Zemny pointed the gun at Lazlo. “It was you who changed the fringes of the ritual, wasn’t it?”

“I did as ordered.” Lazlo took a step back. He eyed the gun warily. “I was-”

“Horseshit!” Zemny roared. “You always wanted to take my place! To have the funding I got!”

“You didn’t deserve it!” Lazlo shot back. “This all isn’t even your own work! You just copied some old dusty research and adapted it!”

“I IMPROVED IT!”

This got a reaction from Mila’s companion. She was suddenly overcome with endless rage and pulled herself into a ball in Isabel’s hands. Isabel noticed the strangeness and stopped, looking down at her in worry.

“It’s fine…” Mila managed to spit out. She struggled to contain the incoming tide of negative emotions with her own. The fact that her heart was full of worry for Isabel’s condition and her rage against Oscar helped immensely.

“You plagiarised! I have seen the notes!”

“You THIEF! How DARE you intrude on my laboratory!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Azan tried to stop the spat - unsuccessfully.

“-charlatan!”

“Grave robber!”

And so it continued. Mila could not believe in their childish behaviour. Azan’s shouting only added to the mix of confusion. The leader’s subordinates had started to hesitate on what to do as well. They kept glancing back at the stage where the ugly politicking was unfolding.

It felt so… Repugnant.

Even now, people continue to die. The ritual was in danger due to an unmentionable horror grabbing their little piece of the world - held back only by the efforts of the Military and the Inquisitors.

The basis of the ritual had been compromised by Mila and her group, and…

They continued to squabble. Their lives and those of others seemed to be less important than their pride.

It was unfathomable how stupid they were. Mila felt disgusted. It was another emotion that helped to hold back the torrent of hatred and rage flowing from her companion.

Granted… It gave Mila time to finish more engravings, increasing her influence on the ritual. It wasn’t enough, but it was… Something. She nudged her love again, heading for the next spot.

Meanwhile, on the stage, the only reasonable person decided to stop the circus. Azan swung his hand and decapitated Lazlo. The illusionist’s head rolled on the ground, his eyes full of surprise.

“Now, get back to whatever you were doing.” Azan pointed his blade at Zemny, who gaped.

“But…” Zemny was shaken by the sudden change. He blinked, then moved his gun back towards the intruders.

Mila clicked her tongue, then chastised herself for doing that. Every time it happened, she could not help but remember the humiliating loss she had suffered.

“Father, no!” Mortimer still tried to talk sense into his only family. “You need to stop this!”

“It’s too late!” Zemny rapidly changed where he was aiming. “And you… You are a distraction.” His face dropped all pretences of being that of a human. All that was left was a bitter, old, tired caricature of a once great man.

“No-”

It was too late. Zemny’s finger pulled the trigger, and the whole room was filled by a sudden, thunderous bang.

Mila felt Isabel’s body tense as her girl covered her completely- awaiting the bullet that didn’t come.

A moment later, Mortimer spoke again. “H-how could you.”

“Bah! All you are is a distraction!” Zemny scoffed. “Leave. Or I’ll shoot again. Your bodyguard won’t be able to protect you always.”

As Mila’s hearing returned, she peeked between Isabel’s armpits to see Polonima standing in front of Mortimer. She had somehow managed to protect the thief but had suffered for it. One of her fingers was shattered.

It was proven the gun was an effective way to kill someone skilled in this environment. Mila had no doubts it would have played out differently if the surroundings weren’t filled with so much energy.

“LEAVE!” Zemny’s voice rose above everything else again. “OR DIE!”

“...How could you…” Large tears rolled down Mortimer’s cheeks. “You…”

Isabel had reached the required spot and left Mila down, allowing her to continue working and ruining another dagger. She did a shoddy job, but all that mattered was that the pathways were there.

The father and son exchanged another few short sentences before Azan interrupted. “Leave!” He repeated Zemny’s demand. “And you will survive. We will complete the ritual and ascend to another plane. A place where inventions are allowed. A place where machines are the path to strength!”

Another madman. Azan was more reasonable than Zemny, but he, too, held strange beliefs.

They were speaking of the Earth. Mila knew they had used the gun to make a tenuous connection to that planet and tried to form a pathway. They would have succeeded if not for Mila’s and the other being's intervention.

But as it stood…

“NO!” Mortimer desperately protested. “WE CAN’T LEAVE!”

Mila looked at the man. He was dragged out of the room by the bleeding Polonomia. The woman had decided to leave. Her task was to take care of Mortimer and witness the proceedings.

In a hurry, Mila finished her work in this spot. But now, she was forced to stop again.

Helly’s grandfather’s gun was pointed at her and Isabel again.