The wide corridors of the Mall of Asia Arena buzzed with life, a strange contrast to the looming militarized competitions ahead. Despite the heavy presence of Imperial soldiers and security checkpoints tucked between luxury boutiques and souvenir shops, the place still retained the vibrant energy of a grand shopping mall.
Sallie Mae Salcedo walked casually with his hands in his pockets, his bag slung lazily over one shoulder. Beside him, his younger sister Celeste Marie Salcedo strode with her usual sharp-eyed grace, and on her other side, Angela Castillo took in the surroundings with wide-eyed excitement.
The trio blended almost seamlessly into the crowd of shoppers, vloggers filming flashy montages, excited tourists admiring the transformation of the legendary mall, and locals just trying to enjoy an afternoon out before the Games began.
"This is... way livelier than I thought," Angela said, spinning around to take a full view of the bustling crowd. "Honestly, I thought they were going to turn this into a total fortress."
"They did," Celeste replied dryly, adjusting her shoulder bag. "It's just decorated to look less terrifying. Look at the drone patrols and reinforced barriers between shop districts."
True to her word, discreet mana-sensing drones hovered overhead, masked by holographic banners advertising brands and upcoming Game matches. Every few corridors, soldiers armed with CAD-equipped weapons and magic suppression devices stood watchful among the civilians.
"Relax, Cel," Sallie chimed in, flashing a casual grin. "It's not every day we get a free pass to window-shop and bully a rich guy into buying us stuff."
Angela smirked and elbowed him lightly. "Correction: you're the rich guy we're bullying."
"Exactly," Celeste said sweetly. "You owe us, Mr. ₱112,000-winnings-just-for-fun."
They weaved through the crowds, stopping occasionally to admire glimmering jewelry stores, sprawling tech outlets displaying prototype gadgets, and armor boutiques showcasing designer combat uniforms customized for style-conscious cadets.
Occasionally, holographic announcements blared overhead:
"Attention Imperial Cadets: Please remember that mandatory roll call for the opening ceremony is scheduled at 0900 hours tomorrow. Latecomers will be penalized. Have a victorious day!"
Sallie stretched his arms lazily. "We've got a few hours before curfew. Where to first? Weapons boutique? Cafés? Tactical sneaker shop?"
Angela's eyes lit up. "Clothes. I want at least one new outfit before we get pulverized tomorrow!"
"Make that two," Celeste added, tugging Sallie forward by the sleeve. "And you're paying."
Sallie feigned a long, pitiful whine as he let himself be dragged along.
"And what about my food? I'm hungry! I should be the one buying food! We're all hungry too! I'm hungry also too!" he cried dramatically, clutching his stomach like he was about to collapse.
Angela laughed, covering her mouth. "That's the worst bargaining technique I've ever heard."
Celeste gave him a side glance, unimpressed. "If you can afford to whine that much, you can afford a snack and our clothes."
"Traitors," Sallie grumbled under his breath, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward. He wasn't really upset—if anything, he was enjoying their teasing.
They passed a food court area, the smell of sizzling meat, buttery pastries, and spicy noodles filling the air like a warm, delicious blanket. Sallie's stomach growled audibly, causing both girls to look at him.
Angela leaned in, smirking. "Well, Mr. Salcedo, since you're so hungry you're about to die..." She pointed toward a stall selling giant, overflowing beef rice bowls topped with fried eggs. "Be a good big brother and treat us there too?"
Sallie sighed, throwing his hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine! Clothes first, food after. Or food first, clothes after. Dealer's choice."
Celeste crossed her arms, thinking. "Food first. You might faint halfway if we shop first."
"Yeah, wouldn't want you passing out in the middle of the women's section," Angela teased, poking him in the side.
"Trust me, I'd survive," Sallie said smugly. "I was born ready for any battlefield—including shopping malls filled with dangerous women."
Celeste gave him a sly smile. "We'll see about that."
Angela just laughed, shaking her head as they made their way toward the food court.
The moment they entered the open plaza filled with food stalls and brightly lit signs, the mouthwatering smell of freshly cooked meals hit them like a tidal wave. Grills sizzled, deep fryers crackled, and vendors barked out cheerful invites to passing customers.
Without hesitation, Sallie pulled out his wallet with a dramatic flourish. "Alright, ladies! Pick whatever you want! Commander Sallie will sponsor your feast today!"
Celeste and Angela wasted no time. She zeroed in on a street food stall selling perfectly golden, crispy chicken skewers, while Angela's eyes lit up at a vendor offering spicy grilled squid and buttered corn.
Sallie trailed behind them, hands already full with his own growing pile: a towering burger from a fast food chain, a large bucket of fried chicken, a stick of barbecued pork, two orders of buttered garlic rice, and even a cup of halo-halo because—why not?
"You're seriously eating all that?" Angela said in disbelief as she juggled her own tray loaded with food.
"I'm a growing boy," Sallie said seriously, balancing his loot with practiced ease. "And also, survival instincts. Eat like it's your last meal before the battlefield."
Celeste snorted softly, taking a neat bite of her chicken skewer. "At this rate, the enemy won't have to beat you. You'll just fall asleep on the field after a food coma."
As they gathered around a table overlooking the busy crowd, they dug into their food with gusto. The world around them faded into a warm blur of chatter, clinking plates, and the comforting aroma of street food.
Sallie occasionally tossed bits of fried food toward Angela when she wasn't looking, earning a playful glare each time. Celeste, meanwhile, acted the most composed—until Sallie sneakily swapped her drink with a super sour calamansi juice he'd secretly bought earlier, causing her to cough and glare murderously while he and Angela burst into laughter.
Sallie leaned back in his chair with a satisfied sigh, wiping his mouth with a napkin. His pile of plates and wrappers looked like the aftermath of a small battle.
"Victory," he declared proudly, patting his stomach.
Celeste rolled her eyes, but even she couldn't hide the small smile tugging at her lips. Angela just laughed as she picked at the last bits of grilled squid on her plate.
Sallie stood up, stretching his arms lazily. "Alright. Drink run. Who wants one?" he asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
"I'll have iced tea," Celeste said without missing a beat.
"Same," Angela chimed in. "Something sweet and cold."
Sallie gave a mock salute. "Two iced teas and a water for me, coming right up. No boba. We're soldiers, not twelve-year-olds."
Angela smirked. "Says the guy who ordered halo-halo earlier."
He waved her off and wandered toward the nearby drink stalls. It didn't take him long—vendors were everywhere, hawking colorful teas, fresh juices, and even magic-enhanced energy drinks meant for the upcoming Games. Sallie kept it simple: two tall iced teas, lightly sweetened, and a bottle of mineral water for himself.
He returned to the table, setting the drinks down like prized treasures.
"Here you go, my loyal teammates," he said in an exaggerated heroic voice. "May these drinks empower you for the next battle: dessert shopping."
Angela raised her cup in mock toast. "To survival!"
Celeste clinked her cup against hers. "And Sallie's wallet!"
"Cheers," Sallie muttered dryly, sipping his water.
Once they finished their drinks, they packed up their things, tossing trash into the nearby bins.
"Alright, dessert time," Sallie said, adjusting his bag. "Any requests before we just follow the smell of sugar?"
"I saw a gelato place near the south wing," Angela said, pointing toward one of the crowded corridors.
"And there's a mochi stand on the second floor," Celeste added thoughtfully. "Maybe we check both?"
"First the drinks, now two dessert shops..." Sallie groaned theatrically, dragging his feet as they headed out, but the grin never left his face.
___
After a short walk weaving through the bustling crowd, the trio finally spotted the mochi shop tucked into a cozy corner near the second-floor railing.
The little shop was bright and inviting, its glass display case packed with colorful, perfectly rounded mochis—strawberry, matcha, mango, chocolate, red bean, and even more exotic flavors like black sesame and yuzu. The smell of sweet rice and fresh fruit hung in the air, making it impossible to resist.
Sallie casually pulled out his wallet again with a theatrical sigh, flashing it toward them.
"Alright, alright. Pick whatever you want. Go nuts. It's on me—again."
Angela immediately rushed toward the glass counter, her eyes sparkling as she inspected the selection.
"Ooh, they have mango mochi!" she exclaimed. "And lychee flavor! Celeste, look!"
Celeste, for once, looked almost... tempted. She peered into the case with a thoughtful hum, tapping her finger against the glass.
"Matcha. Definitely matcha. And maybe black sesame."
Sallie crossed his arms, watching them with a lopsided grin. "You two act like you've never seen food before. Weren't you both just complaining about how full you were?"
"There's a separate stomach for dessert," Angela said solemnly, as if quoting ancient martial wisdom.
Celeste nodded in agreement, already placing her order with the cheerful vendor.
"Basic survival knowledge. Shouldn't you know that, Onii-sama?"
Sallie chuckled, leaning lazily against the wall as he watched them order.
"Right, right. Next you're gonna tell me there's a third stomach just for milk tea."
Angela gave him a mock serious look. "There is."
Sallie just shook his head, amused, as the vendor handed over small pastel-colored boxes filled with neatly packed mochis. Celeste cradled hers carefully like a precious artifact, while Angela immediately pulled out a mango mochi and took a huge, delighted bite.
"Totally worth it," Angela said with her mouth half full.
Celeste tried a bite of her matcha mochi and gave a small, satisfied nod. "Perfect texture. Not too sweet. You have good taste for once, Sallie."
"Hey, hey, I'm always good at picking spots," Sallie protested, pretending to look wounded. "I just let you two handle the 'tiny dessert drama' part."
They laughed together, their easy banter carrying over the background noise of the crowd and distant overhead announcements.
As they finished their mochis, Celeste wiped her hands neatly with a napkin and nudged Angela.
"Bathroom break. Come with me," she said casually.
Angela gave a mock groan. "Already? Fine, fine. Sallie, don't run off without us."
"Yeah, yeah," Sallie replied lazily, waving them off. "Go do your mysterious girl rituals or whatever."
The two girls laughed and disappeared into the nearby corridor marked with bright restroom signs, leaving Sallie standing alone near the mochi shop entrance.
He leaned back against the pillar, sipping the last of his water and idly watching the crowds swirl by. It was strangely peaceful—for about thirty seconds.
Then—
"Sallie Mae Salcedo."
The voice came from behind him. Confident. Cool. Like someone who already knew who he was.
Sallie's body tensed slightly—not from fear, but from instinct.
He turned his head slowly.
Sitting at a nearby table, casually poised with one leg crossed over the other, was a young woman.
Her hair was striking—long, deep green, tied neatly into a side braid that hung over her shoulder like a silk ribbon.
She wore a distinct school uniform: a maroon coat with a sharp, tailored cut, a green long undercoat peeking underneath, and a neatly tied green necktie. On her chest was the unmistakable emblem of Seventh High School, formerly known as University of the Philippines (UP) before the empire's reforms.
She rested her chin lightly on her hand, her sharp, emerald eyes locked onto him with an unsettling familiarity—like she knew his every strength and weakness already.
"You're just as the rumors say," she said coolly, her lips curling into a small, knowing smile. "Laid-back... casual... but hiding something dangerous underneath."
Sallie blinked once, slowly. "Uh," he said, voice light but wary, "not to be rude, but... have we met? Or are you just a really aggressive fan?"
The green-haired girl chuckled softly. "Maybe a little of both."
She gestured to the seat across from her.
"Come. Sit. It's not often I get to meet the so-called Wildcard of Fourth High in person."
For a second, Sallie hesitated. His instincts were tingling—this girl wasn't just some random tourist or classmate. There was purpose in her gaze, Challenge, maybe, Or something else entirely.
After a heartbeat, he shrugged and walked over, tossing his empty water bottle into the trash on the way.
"Sure," he said easily, sliding into the seat across from her. "You got my attention. What's next, mysterious Seventh High girl?"
The green-haired young woman leaned forward slightly, her braid slipping over her shoulder like a coiling serpent.
"My name is Andrea Cervantes Fernandez," she said, voice bright but carrying a razor edge underneath.
At that name, Sallie's relaxed expression shifted—only slightly, but enough.
He knew that name.
Andrea Cervantes Fernandez.
A known firebrand from the Tamaraw Magicians Division.
Back when the UAAP schools still existed, she was famous across the circuit for her wild, high-speed mounted duels—especially her aggressive fire magic dueling style that left slower opponents scorched and humiliated.
"Figures," Sallie thought. "She'd pop up here of all places."
He gave her a slow once-over, as if reappraising her now that he knew exactly who he was dealing with.
"The Andrea Cervantes, huh?" he drawled, propping his arms lazily on the table. "The crazy one who used to charge headfirst into enemy formations just to prove a point?"
Andrea grinned wide, unashamed.
"Guilty," she said proudly, tapping her chest once with a fist. Her mana gauntlets—sleek, crimson-lined gloves—clicked faintly with the motion, even though they were powered down.
"And you're Sallie Salcedo—the lazy genius with a gambling addiction and a body count in friendly duels."
Sallie laughed under his breath. "Body count's exaggerated. Gambling addiction, though? Maybe." He tilted his head slightly. "What's your angle? Trash talk before the matches even start?"
Andrea smirked, leaning closer until she was practically nose-to-nose with him across the table.
"Not trash talk. Friendly warning."
She lifted one hand and drew a small circle in the air, a playful ember of fire briefly sparking between her fingers before she snapped it out.
"I specialize in high-risk, high-reward fighting," she said, eyes glinting. "I don't do boring slow matches. When we cross paths... I'm coming at you full throttle."
Sallie leaned back lazily, unbothered, his arms stretched over the back of his chair.
"Sounds exhausting," he said with a teasing grin. "But sure. Full throttle. I'll be sure to nap harder before your match then."
Andrea chuckled, tapping the table with her fingertip. "Don't get cocky. I'm not here to scare you off. I'm here to test if all those stories about you are real... or just exaggerated myths Fourth High keeps selling."
Sallie tilted his head, amused. "So, basically... you're a fan."
She barked a laugh. "Fan? Hell no. Think of me more like... your future problem."
Sallie, instead of rising to the bait, leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows lazily on the table. A slight smirk tugged at his lips.
"Future problem, huh? That's cute," he said casually. "But you're not the only one who's done her homework."
Andrea raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh?"
Sallie nodded, tapping the table lightly with one finger.
"I remember you, Seventh High. I used to watch your matches back when the UAAP Varsity seasons were still broadcasted."
He tilted his head, thinking aloud.
"Last SEA Games, too. I was there. Urban Warfare Trials, Exhibition Event. Watched every second of it before our turn came up."
Andrea's playful smirk faltered for half a second — a flicker of surprise crossing her eyes.
Sallie continued, voice light but steady, recalling details without even thinking:
"Your team ran the Breakneck Charge tactic during the early rounds. Blitz assaults, overwhelming firepower, full mobility focus. Tamaraw Magicians specialized in it. Worked wonders against lighter teams — demolished the Mindoro Vanguard in qualifiers, if I remember right."
Andrea crossed her arms now, intrigued. "Go on," she said, a sly grin creeping back in.
Sallie lazily counted on his fingers. "But then... final four?"
"First High South, heavy magic artillery division — they turtled you guys hard."
"Sixth High, the Blitz Wolfs? Knocked out Mindanao West with a surprise counter-charge, but they burned out by semis."
"And Fourth High—We faced Second High in the finals after trashing the supposed favorites, Third High."
He gave a lazy shrug. "You guys placed third. Not bad, but... not enough."
Andrea narrowed her eyes slightly, not in anger—but in a competitive glint, her pride lightly poked. "You really did pay attention."
"Of course I did," Sallie said smoothly. "Urban Warfare isn't just brute force. It's chess. Speed, endurance, team synergies. Watching you guys charge was like watching a gorgeous firework show... right before someone dumped a bucket of water on it."
Andrea let out a short, low whistle. "Sharp tongue, Salcedo. You're smarter than you look."
"Part of the job description," Sallie said with a lazy grin.
He leaned back again, arms stretched behind his head. "Besides... everyone flashy looks good early. The smart ones win late."
Andrea laughed genuinely this time, tossing her braid back over her shoulder. "Alright. Color me impressed," she said, clearly amused.
But Sallie wasn't done. He leaned forward slightly, resting one arm on the table, that lazy grin still playing on his lips.
"You know..." he said casually, "Seventh High could've taken the whole Sea Games last year."
Andrea blinked, caught off-guard by his sudden shift in tone.
"What are you talking about?" she asked, eyebrow raised.
Sallie tapped the table twice, almost like marking a beat in a story.
"You guys were just one step away," he said. "Out of the nine major events in the Sea Games last year, Seventh High finished strong. First place in Urban Warfare Trials. Top three in the Tactical Decathlon. Even second place in the Mana Control Relays."
He counted off each achievement smoothly, like he'd studied it.
"But the real shocker?" He smirked slightly. "The overall championship was decided... in the basketball finals."
Andrea's playful smirk faded into a look of cautious interest.
"Basketball?" she repeated.
Sallie nodded. "Yeah. It came down to the last sport—the final game. Seventh High versus Second High. Second High—y'know, the old La Salle faction? They weren't even favored to win. But..." He tilted his head. "They baited you guys into a rush offense, forced mistakes, played mind games. Cost Seventh High the win... and just enough points for Second High to edge you out of the overall trophy."
Andrea's eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger, but remembering.
"And because of that," Sallie finished, grinning lazily, "Fourth High—snuck in and took the overall championship instead."
He sat back, arms spread. "We only won a handful of events. But thanks to you two beating each other bloody and losing points at the last second... we got the gold by default."
Andrea stared at him for a moment—processing the full breakdown—and then let out a low whistle. "Damn," she muttered, shaking her head slowly. "You really do know your stuff."
Sallie shrugged as if it were nothing. "History's important," he said. "Especially if you don't wanna repeat someone else's mistakes."
Andrea chuckled dryly, a hint of grudging respect flashing in her eyes. "Maybe you're not just a lazy wildcard after all."
"Maybe," Sallie said easily. "Or maybe I just like winning without sweating too much."
Andrea shook her head, laughing again. "You better not slack off this year, Salcedo," she said, pointing at him teasingly. "Because this time, Seventh High's not playing nice."
Sallie leaned back in his chair, giving her a half-lidded look, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.
"Neither are we," he said smoothly. His voice, light and easy as ever, carried a subtle undertone—something sharper beneath the surface.
"Fourth High isn't playing nice anymore. Not this year."
Andrea's smile faltered slightly, just for a second—because she knew she wasn't just guessing.
Her gaze sharpened, like a swordswoman recognizing the weight of the blade pointed back at her.
"I figured," Andrea said after a beat, crossing her arms casually. Her braid slid over her shoulder again as she tilted her head thoughtfully.
"I overheard a few things... before the opening briefing last month. About the Imperial Duel 2v2 matches. About you."
Sallie raised an eyebrow, feigning mild surprise. "Oh? Spying on me already?"
Andrea smirked. "Please. When the Emperor and his daughter call you into a throne room to make a special deal—you think nobody's gonna talk about it?"
Sallie chuckled low under his breath. "Figures."
Andrea leaned closer again, her voice dropping slightly, serious now.
"You win the 2v2 Duels... you get what you want, right?"
Sallie gave a lazy shrug, but his eyes gleamed with something harder.
"Something like that."
Andrea studied him carefully for a moment—this wasn't the cocky, half-asleep wildcard Fourth High liked to parade around. This was the version underneath it all—the one Gabriella Mendez and Emperor Aurelio Mendez III had seen in that throne room.
The one hungry for something beyond titles, trophies, and shallow victories.
"I heard," Andrea said slowly, almost testing the waters, "that if you dominate this Sea Games... they'll send you into the real war next."
Her voice grew quieter. "Into Japan."
Sallie didn't deny it. He just sipped his drink and shrugged again, casual as ever.
"They say if you want real battles... you gotta swim with sharks, not goldfish."
Andrea gave a low, impressed whistle, leaning back in her seat.
"You really are serious about it."
"Why wouldn't I be?" Sallie said, setting his cup down with a soft clink.
"What's the point of winning fake wars if there's a real one waiting on the horizon?"
For a moment, Andrea said nothing. The noise of the mall hummed around them—shoppers laughing, announcements blaring faintly in the distance—but here at the table, it felt heavier.
Finally, she smirked again, but this time it carried a weight to it.
"You know," Andrea said thoughtfully, "you're not the only one who's gonna be there."
Sallie lifted an eyebrow. "Meaning?"
Andrea tapped her temple lightly. "Nationwide schools. Fourth High, Seventh High, Fifth High, Second High—all of us. After the Sea Games..."
Her voice dropped into something near a whisper, a thrill of excitement running under her words.
"We're not just cadets anymore. We're part of the Imperial Expeditionary Force."
Sallie whistled low. "Everyone's getting called up, huh?"
Andrea nodded once, eyes gleaming. "Japan won't know what hit them. Tamaraw Magicians, Urban Warfare elites, Duel Aces... they're throwing everything they built for the last decade right into the flames."
"And you?" Sallie asked, smirking. "You planning to burn the whole island down yourself?"
Andrea grinned, fire dancing behind her gaze. "I'm planning to leave a mark they'll never forget."
But just as Sallie slung his bag over his shoulder, ready to step away, Andrea's voice dropped lower, sly and knowing:
"...Speaking of unforgettable..."
She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice into a conspiratorial tone.
"I overheard something else. Something about a name... Tatsuya Shiba."
The air between them shifted immediately. Sallie's relaxed, cocky expression stiffened—barely—but enough for Andrea to catch it. His hands slid into his pockets casually, but his shoulders grew tense.
He turned his head slightly toward her, his voice dropping to a tight, low whisper.
"How do you know about that?"
Andrea smirked, unbothered by the sudden seriousness.
"You're not the only one who knows how to eavesdrop," she said lightly, tilting her head. "Word travels fast when the throne room doors are thin."
Sallie inhaled slowly through his nose, controlling the surge of annoyance blooming in his chest.
"That's not something you just talk about in public," he hissed under his breath, voice sharp but quiet. His eyes flicked around the crowd—families, vloggers, cadets milling around—and he clenched his jaw.
"You realize the name Tatsuya Shiba isn't supposed to exist in casual conversation, right?"
Andrea shrugged, utterly unfazed. "Relax, Salcedo. No one's listening. They're too busy filming mochi stands and arguing over sneakers."
Sallie stepped closer, lowering his voice into a harsh whisper now.
"You don't get it." His expression sharpened, no longer lazy or casual—dead serious.
"That name... changes everything."
Andrea's smirk faded slightly—not entirely, but there was a glimmer of acknowledgment in her eyes.
"I know. That's why it's fun messing with you," she teased, but her tone had softened just enough to show she wasn't completely careless.
Sallie's expression didn't change — still lazy, still half-grinning — but there was a sharpness behind his eyes now.
A glint that said: Two can play at that game.
He leaned in just slightly, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial murmur.
"Yeah," he said casually, "real fun... until someone brings up your precious little secret."
Andrea blinked, confused for a half-second—until Sallie struck.
"The Seventh High scandal during the UAAP Finals last year."
Andrea stiffened immediately, just a tiny twitch — but Sallie saw it.
The slight straightening of her shoulders. The tightening of her jaw.
Direct hit.
"You know..." Sallie continued lazily, "the one where a 'certain someone' used banned mana-boosting supplements before the semi-finals match against Mindanao West..."
He made a slow, lazy circle with his hand. "Not officially proven, of course. Swept under the rug. Empire couldn't afford to tarnish one of its prize schools, could it?"
Andrea's smirk was completely gone now.
Her lips pressed into a thin, tight line.
Her eyes—usually filled with playful fire—were now sharp, almost cold.
"Careful, Salcedo," she said quietly, a dangerous edge slipping into her voice. "You're treading into places you don't want to step."
But Sallie just smiled lazily, unbothered. "You spied on my throne room deals. I dug through your old matches," he said simply. "Fair's fair."
He tapped the side of his head. "I remember everything. Especially how you suddenly pulled off a perfect 9-minute sweep in that semi-final when, just a month before, your endurance magic kept fizzling at the 6-minute mark."
Andrea's fists clenched lightly at her sides—just a fraction—but Sallie caught it.
"And the Imperial Council," Sallie added, voice still maddeningly casual, "never officially cleared Seventh High. They just... forgot to mention it during the awards ceremony."
The space between them grew tighter—charged not with flirtation now, but with restrained tension.
"You got guts," Andrea said finally, her voice low and even, like a taut bowstring ready to snap.
"I'll give you that."
"Experience," Sallie replied lazily. "I don't pick fights I don't plan on surviving."
They stared at each other for a beat longer — two warriors, two future threats — both masking the tension with smiles and casual stances, but both fully aware they'd crossed a line that couldn't be uncrossed.
Finally, Andrea exhaled slowly through her nose, forcing her smirk back into place. But it didn't reach her eyes anymore.
Sallie watched her carefully, noting the cracks forming in her calm.
He could've stopped there. But something in him — a quiet, sharp instinct honed from years of strategic sparring — whispered Push a little further.
End the battle while you have the chance.
So he leaned back lazily, arms crossed, voice smooth but lined with ice.
"Y'know..." he drawled casually, loud enough for only Andrea to hear at first, "...it's funny how people think scandals start with performance drugs, cheating, secret combat drills..."
Andrea's shoulders stiffened. Something in her gut twisted.
"But real scandals..." Sallie continued, tilting his head slightly, eyes gleaming with merciless amusement,
"...start with the heart."
Andrea's smile froze completely, her body visibly tensing.
Sallie gave a slow, deliberate smirk. "Like when the 'Ace of Seventh High' started sneaking off-campus..." he said, voice just a little louder now, "...meeting a certain officer candidate from the Imperial Logistics Academy."
Andrea's eyes widened for the briefest second — the mask shattered for just a flash.
The fire behind her gaze flickered into panic.
Sallie kept going, voice still mock-casual: "What was it again...? Caught by surveillance drones near the abandoned heliport zone? Midnight meetings... hand-holding... a little more if you believe the unofficial reports?"
Andrea's fists clenched at her sides. People nearby were starting to turn their heads now — sensing the shift in energy, hearing the raised voices, picking up snippets of words like "surveillance" and "romantic scandal."
"Seventh High's golden girl..." Sallie said, stretching his arms lazily behind his head,
"...risking her entire career for a boyfriend outside the approved academy paths."
Andrea snapped. Her chair screeched back as she stood up abruptly, fists balled, her mana flaring subtly — a shimmer of heated air swirling around her as her emotions surged out of control.
"Shut up, Salcedo!" she barked, voice sharp and furious.
Heads turned immediately.
Shoppers, cadets, even a few soldiers patrolling nearby stopped and stared. A hush fell over the immediate area — the kind of silence that comes right before a lightning strike.
Sallie stayed seated, perfectly relaxed, sipping from his water bottle like nothing had happened.
Only his sharp eyes, glittering with cold triumph, betrayed that he had struck exactly where he wanted.
Andrea realized — too late — that she had done exactly what he wanted. She lost her cool in public.
Breathing hard, she glared at him, trembling with rage.
But Sallie just gave her a slow, lazy smile — one that didn't reach his eyes at all.
"Guess you're not as unbreakable as you pretend to be," he murmured under his breath, too quiet for anyone else to catch.
For a second, he thought that would be the end of it — that Andrea would storm off, furious, defeated.
But instead...
Andrea slowly turned back toward him. Her face — once tight with anger — was now curved into a sharp, dangerous smile.
She crossed her arms casually, tilting her head slightly, her long braid sliding over her shoulder like a coiled whip.
"You think you've won something just now, Salcedo?" she said, voice low, almost gentle — but laced with deadly energy underneath.
Sallie met her gaze without flinching, his posture still relaxed, but his instincts humming with alertness. Andrea took a slow step forward, just enough that her shadow brushed the edge of his chair.
"Fine," she said, her voice almost playful now, but every word was sharpened like a blade.
"You want to play dirty? Then let's settle it properly."
She leaned in slightly, her green eyes gleaming.
"Face me in the Imperial Duel 2v2s."
Sallie raised an eyebrow lazily. "You planning to fight alone?"
Andrea's smile widened. "No," she said smoothly. "I'll bring my boyfriend. You bring your sister."
Sallie's smirk didn't break, but his fingers drummed lightly on the table. Andrea Cervantes Fernandez... teaming up with another elite magician from the Logistics Academy.
Potentially brutal.
"You want to see what facing the full force of Seventh High really feels like?" Andrea said, her voice almost a purr.
"I'll show you. No cheap shots. No gossip. Just fire, fists, and magic until one of us stops moving."
For a moment, neither moved — the tension between them practically crackling in the air.
Onlookers had stopped pretending not to watch — a few even pretending to browse nearby stores while sneaking glances at the two cadets whose quiet standoff radiated combat energy in all directions.
Sallie leaned back lazily, stretching once before giving a lazy, dangerous grin.
"Alright," he said, voice light but sharp.
"You're on."
Andrea straightened, nodding once with approval — her smile fierce.
"Good," she said. "Because when we meet on the battlefield...
I'm not aiming for points."
Sallie chuckled under his breath. "Neither am I."
Andrea was just about to turn fully away when Sallie's voice floated after her — low, calm, but cutting like a knife drawn quietly across the skin.
"Perhaps you might want to talk to your boyfriend about it..." he said casually, lazily twirling his water bottle between his fingers.
Andrea stopped mid-step. Her hand twitched slightly at her side.
Sallie leaned back in his chair again, his smile as lazy as ever, but his eyes were sharp and glinting.
"About what I said to you."
He let the words hang, heavy and deliberate.
Andrea turned her head slightly, just enough for him to catch the side of her face — tight-jawed, strained — fighting the urge to react.
Sallie's tone dropped into something almost conversational, but each word was carefully placed, like setting mines in the path.
"You eavesdropped on our secret," he said softly.
"You brought that name into the open."
He tilted his head slightly.
"So I brought yours into the open too."
Silence pressed between them like a third presence.
Not a shout, not a threat — just a heavy, undeniable truth.
Andrea's lips pressed together into a thin line, her shoulders tense beneath her maroon coat.
Finally, after a long beat, she spoke without looking back:
"Fair enough," she said quietly, her voice clipped and tight with controlled anger.
"But don't think it'll be that easy when we meet next, Salcedo."
Sallie just smiled wider, watching her walk away into the crowd like a panther hiding a limp — proud, dangerous, but undeniably wounded.
Sallie tapped his fingers lightly against the table, letting the last traces of tension bleed out of him. Andrea's figure disappeared into the crowded mall, but the charged atmosphere she left behind still lingered around him like smoke after a gunshot.
He didn't even have time to stand up when he heard familiar voices approaching.
"—And I'm telling you, that dessert stall was overpriced!" Angela was saying with a laugh.
"You're the one who bought two extra boxes," Celeste replied dryly, her arms crossed and her footsteps precise as ever.
The two girls rounded the corner—and stopped almost immediately when they caught sight of Sallie still seated, alone, his body relaxed but his eyes unnaturally sharp.
The faint tension in the air wasn't lost on them.
Celeste's gaze narrowed instantly, sharp as a drawn blade.
Angela just blinked, sensing the mood shift.
"Alright," Angela said slowly, hands on her hips. "What did we miss?"
Celeste stepped closer, her eyes scanning the nearby crowd — seeing the subtle glances from people around them, hearing the whispers.
It didn't take a genius to realize something had happened.
She turned back to Sallie, frowning slightly. "You look like you just picked a fight with half the arena," she said bluntly.
Sallie smiled lazily, reaching for his water bottle like nothing happened.
"Nothing big," he said casually. "Just... met a future opponent."
Angela leaned on the chair across from him. "Let me guess," she said, smirking. "Another fan?"
Celeste, however, wasn't smiling. She caught the slight tension in Sallie's shoulders—the tightness he was trying to hide.
"Who?" she asked quietly. Her voice didn't demand, didn't accuse. It commanded.
Sallie paused for a second, considering.
Then he shrugged, still pretending to be nonchalant.
"Andrea Cervantes Fernandez," he said simply. "Seventh High's ace."
Angela whistled low. "Oooh, spicy. The famous Tamaraw girl herself?"
Celeste's expression didn't change — but a glint of seriousness flashed across her blue eyes.
"You provoked her, didn't you," Celeste said—not a question, a statement.
Sallie gave a small, amused grin. "She provoked me first," he said. "I just... answered back."
Angela looked between them, curious but cautious.
"Answered back how, exactly?"
Sallie finished his drink with a slow gulp, then set it down with a soft thud.
"Let's just say," he said, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder,
"the 2v2 Imperial Duels just got a lot more personal."
Celeste sighed under her breath, pinching the bridge of her nose.
"You really can't help yourself, can you?" she muttered.
Sallie flashed her a lazy, confident grin.
"Where's the fun in playing it safe?"
Celeste sighed again, this time longer, heavier — like she was trying to summon all her patience from the depths of her soul.
She fell into step beside him, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
Then, in a quiet but clearly annoyed voice, she muttered,
"Onii-sama..."
Sallie raised an eyebrow at the rare formality from her — she only called him that when she was seriously irritated.
Celeste's sharp blue eyes locked onto him as they weaved through the thinning crowd toward the escalators.
"Provoking Seventh High... for the 2v2s..." she said slowly, voice like a blade sliding out of its sheath, "...is not something I recommend."
Angela chuckled awkwardly behind them, sensing the shift.
Even she knew that tone.
Celeste continued, tone clipped and cold "It's reckless. It's tactically stupid."
She jabbed a finger lightly into Sallie's arm as she spoke.
"You didn't just poke a rival school, Onii-sama. You poked Andrea Cervantes Fernandez. In public. Where half the arena was watching."
Sallie shrugged easily, completely unbothered.
"You heard her," he said casually. "She started it. I just finished it."
Celeste pinched the bridge of her nose again, visibly restraining herself from throttling him on the spot.
"Finishing it," she said in a slow, strained voice, "would have been walking away without creating an international gossip explosion."
Angela snorted at that despite herself, covering her mouth quickly. Sallie grinned wider.
"Relax," he said, patting Celeste lightly on the head just to annoy her further. "Everything's under control."
Celeste slapped his hand away with a scowl.
"You said that before you got banned from that virtual war game tournament for 'psychological unsportsmanlike behavior,' too!"
Angela burst out laughing at that one.
Even Sallie had the decency to look faintly sheepish for half a second — before the grin returned.
"Different battlefield," he said, holding up a finger. "New war, new rules."
Celeste exhaled through her nose sharply, giving him a look that could have frozen lava.
"Onii-sama... if we lose the 2v2s because of your ego—"
"We won't," Sallie interrupted easily, slinging an arm around her shoulders in a rare show of affection — though still with that annoying, big-brotherly smugness.
"Not with you as my partner, right?"
Celeste glared up at him, but a slight pink tinge touched her cheeks at the unexpected compliment. She huffed, shoving him off roughly.
"Don't think flattery will save you from stupidity," she muttered.
Sallie, still draped lazily beside her, flashed Celeste one of his most infuriating, comedic grins — all teeth and zero shame.
He nudged her playfully with his elbow. "Oh, by the way," he said, voice light and teasing, "Andrea's bringing her boyfriend to the fight."
Celeste narrowed her eyes slightly, sensing a trap coming.
"And...?"
"And I'm bringing you," Sallie said proudly, as if announcing a grand strategy.
He even clapped a hand lightly on her shoulder.
"My trusty little sister. Deadlier than any boyfriend backup."
Angela stifled a giggle behind them as they walked.
Sallie leaned down a little closer, whispering dramatically,
"You're my secret weapon, Celeste. My ace in the hole. My pocket nuke."
Celeste stopped walking, her expression completely flat.
She turned her head to give Sallie a slow, icy glare that could have shattered diamonds.
"Onii-sama," she said in an even, almost scarily calm voice.
"This isn't a joke."
Sallie's grin stayed wide, but he caught the seriousness in her voice — and underneath his playful surface, he knew she was right.
Celeste resumed walking, her arms crossed tightly across her chest, her steps crisp and deliberate.
"You think Seventh High is just another obstacle," she said coldly.
"But they were one step away from being undisputed champions of the Sea Games last year."
Sallie tilted his head casually. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he said, still half-laughing. "Luckily, Second High pulled a miracle and knocked them down before they could grab the 9th title. We slipped in, took the overall win. History books, gold medals, confetti, good times."
Celeste didn't even crack a smile. She stared straight ahead, voice low and unwavering:
"Luck," she said sharply. "That's all it was. Without Second High sabotaging their momentum in that basketball final... we wouldn't be holding last year's championship trophy."
Her hands clenched slightly at her sides. "They are not to be underestimated. Especially now."
Sallie scratched the back of his head, his grin faltering slightly.
He opened his mouth to make another joke—then shut it when he caught the flicker of real, genuine worry in Celeste's usually steady gaze.
For all her sarcasm, for all her cold-blooded precision...
Celeste wasn't playing this time. Not at all.
Angela, sensing the heavy shift, finally spoke up, her tone more casual but supportive:
"Hey. No pressure. We've got the best team we could ask for."
Sallie looked at his sister for a moment longer, the lazy grin fading into a rare, smaller, more genuine smile.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "We do."
"You better pray, Onii-sama," Celeste said coldly, "that the former La Salle school—Second High—pulls off another one of their weird miracles this year."
She glanced over her shoulder, her sharp blue eyes locking onto him.
"Because if they don't save us again like last time... You can say goodbye to your chance of ever facing Tatsuya Shiba."
The name hit the air like a thunderclap.
Angela slowed her steps instinctively, shooting a quick glance between the two siblings.
Even Sallie's easy grin flickered for a second, the reality behind her words sinking a little deeper into his mind.
He raised both hands in feigned surrender, putting on an exaggerated, sheepish grin. "Alright, alright, you win," Sallie said, his voice light but more genuine underneath.
"I'll take it seriously, okay? Promise."
He dropped the grin slightly and gave her a more honest look — no teasing this time.
"You're right, Cel. I get it. If I screw around in the 2v2s, it's not just a loss. It's the end of everything we've been building up for."
Celeste's gaze stayed firm for a moment longer — measuring him — before she finally gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.
"Good," she said quietly. "Because after tomorrow... it won't just be medals and trophies on the line anymore."
Sallie exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair.
"Yeah," he muttered. "I know."
Angela, trying to lighten the heavy mood just a little, piped up from behind them with a grin:
"Besides, it'll be kinda romantic, right? You, your sister, Andrea, her boyfriend... double date on the battlefield!"
Sallie let out a short laugh at that. "Yeah, nothing says romance like blasting each other with combat magic until someone taps out."
Even Celeste — stern, controlled Celeste — allowed herself a tiny, tiny smile. Just for a second.
---
Meanwhile, on the mist-shrouded coastline of Yokohama, a completely different kind of tension was unfolding.
Under the dim glare of floodlights and the constant thrum of diesel generators, JSDF soldiers moved swiftly across the shore, shouting orders and hauling heavy defensive equipment into position. The normally calm beachfront was now a makeshift military stronghold, dotted with hastily-erected barricades, anti-magic defensive fields, and sensor arrays designed specifically to detect and disrupt teleportation magic—especially the dreaded Imperial Gate.
"Get those mana sensors calibrated immediately!" a senior officer shouted over the noise, waving sharply toward a team scrambling to set up glowing pylons. "We don't have time for mistakes! Imperial forces could appear at any second!"
Across the sandy stretch, JSDF personnel hurriedly adjusted weaponry, positioning rapid-response artillery batteries toward the sea, ready to fire at the first sign of trouble. But despite their best efforts, it was clear they were stretched thin, overworked, and racing against a threat they barely understood.
One young soldier wiped sweat from his brow, his hands trembling slightly as he loaded mana-disruption rounds into an automatic turret.
"You okay?" another soldier asked, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Keep steady. We've trained for this."
"Yeah," the young soldier replied, his voice strained. "But we're dealing with Imperial teleportation. They could just—appear. No warning. No sound. Just... suddenly here."
His comrade's expression tightened grimly. "That's exactly why we have to be faster. If the Imperial Gate opens, we only get one shot."
On a nearby command post, communications officers struggled to coordinate their thinly spread defenses. Voices crackled through radios, panic just beneath the disciplined orders, as messages bounced back and forth:
"Sector 3 reports mana interference—"
"Negative! It's just ambient fluctuations!"
"Reinforcements from Tokyo Command?"
"Delayed. All units deployed already."
An exhausted JSDF captain stood watching the frantic preparations, his gaze fixed anxiously on the dark horizon beyond Yokohama Bay.
"They're pushing us," he murmured bitterly, half to himself. "Waiting for us to crack."
His lieutenant stood quietly at his side. "We'll hold, Captain."
The captain nodded slowly, eyes narrowed. "We have to. Because if we don't stop them here... there won't be another chance."
He stared out at the empty coastline for a moment longer—watching only waves crashing under floodlights and patrol drones hovering overhead.
Then he added, more to himself than anyone else:
"...And they're not even here yet."
His lieutenant looked at him, puzzled. "Sir?"
"The Empire," the captain muttered. "They're still playing games. Literally." He turned toward the base camp behind them—rows of terminals still tracking offshore magical signatures, mana radar pings from the Philippines, and intercepted cadet movement reports.
"The Imperial Sea Games are still underway," he said bitterly.
"A tournament, they call it. But every match, every duel... it's a training ground. A recruitment drive. A testing field for their elite."
The captain's brooding gaze broke as two distinct figures approached from the rear access path—escorted by JSDF officers but walking with unmistakable authority.
One wore her uniform slightly loose, her hand resting easily on the hilt of her short sword, her expression all business.
The other moved with graceful confidence, her sharp eyes scanning every defensive detail like she was cataloguing weaknesses by instinct.
Mari Watanabe and Mayumi Saegusa. Former Disciplinary Committee Chair and Student Council President of First High—now full-fledged magic combat operatives assigned to Japan's national defense under the Ministry of Magical Security.
Mari stepped forward first.
"Captain," she said briskly. "We just got word that another mana surge was detected near the southern trench line."
Mayumi cut in smoothly, her tone calm but piercing:
"We want the full update on coastal defenses. Starting with Yokohama. Then the rest of Japan."
The captain saluted instinctively. "Watanabe, Saegusa—good to see you. Follow me."
He led them to the edge of the tactical table, where a glowing digital map of the Japanese coastline flickered with real-time mana readings.
He pointed to Yokohama's marker first. "This sector's our top priority. Coastal artillery placements here and here," he gestured, "mana suppression pylons in every zone—but we're low on portable sealers. Our teleportation jamming field is only eighty percent effective."
Mari frowned. "Not enough if the Imperial Gate drops directly into the harbor."
"Exactly," the captain agreed grimly. "If Gabriella Mendez opens her Gate at full output, we might detect the surge—but we won't be able to stop them from deploying. We've reinforced the sea wall and loaded anti-magic cannons with mana-disruption rounds, but…"
He paused.
"Frankly? It's a holding line. Not a wall."
Mayumi's arms folded tightly. "What about the rest of the coastline?"
The captain tapped several points across the digital map—lines of red and yellow flickering up across Chiba, Shizuoka, Nagoya, Kyushu, and Osaka Bay.
"Chiba's got a defensive net nearly complete. But it's rigged for naval invasions, not air-dropped units. Kyushu's stretched thin—half their cadet reinforcements were rerouted to Nagano. Osaka's better—layers of Type-3 mage suppression towers—but if they're bypassed by teleportation…"
He trailed off.
Mayumi's gaze hardened. "They don't even have to conquer city by city. Just land directly inside critical infrastructure. Hit our power grid. Communication hubs. Magitech centers."
Mari clenched her fist. "Classic IFRP blitzkrieg tactics, just adapted to magic warfare."
The captain nodded. "And we're not prepared. Not fully. We're counting on cadet reinforcements and strategic-class deterrents—like him—"
Mayumi crossed her arms, her expression unreadable.
"Tatsuya Shiba," she said quietly.
Mari's brow furrowed. "You think he alone can hold off what's coming?"
The captain hesitated, then shook his head.
"If it were a single battle—maybe. But against a coordinated IFRP assault… we're talking Gabriella Aurelia Mendez."
He gestured to the tactical map again, tapping Yokohama with a firm finger.
"She's not just a Strategic-Class magician. She's a force multiplier. Imperial Gate allows her to deploy entire battalions—mages, mechanized units, siege assets—across multiple points within seconds. We're looking at potential simultaneous landings across Yokohama, Chiba, and Shizuoka."
Mari clenched her jaw. "Even if Tatsuya matches Gabriella one-on-one, that doesn't stop her army."
Mayumi nodded slowly. "He's defending Japan alone. She's leading the attack—with full Imperial support."
The captain's face darkened. "That's the reality. We keep saying 'Tatsuya can stop her,' but the truth is…"
He glanced toward the dark ocean.
"...he might only be able to delay her."
The silence lingered only for a moment before Mayumi broke it, her voice clipped and composed. "What kind of defenses have we deployed so far? Specifics."
The captain didn't hesitate. "Mana suppression towers in major coastal sectors. Type-3 barrier pylons synced to pulse in anti-teleportation waves every ten seconds. It slows down small-scale warping—won't stop an Imperial Gate, but might delay the spell long enough for counter-fire."
He pointed to a section near the docks. "Yokohama Port is laced with mana mines—low-yield, but designed to detonate on foreign mana signatures. We've reinforced the shoreline with physical tank traps and railgun turrets—conventional, but still effective against lightly armored Tamaraw units."
Mari nodded sharply. "Mobile reserves?"
"Two battalions of JSDF magicians standing by in underground bunkers. Each with emergency teleport disruptors and short-range mana shields. Not enough for a full-on battle, but good for slowing the first wave."
Mayumi crossed her arms, her expression unreadable.
"And the inland fallback?"
The captain's eyes darkened slightly. "A containment ring around the Tokyo outskirts. If the coast falls… we fall back and fight district by district."
Mari looked at the map again, quiet for a moment.
"Not ideal. But it's a start."
Then the captain turned to them with a harder tone, his eyes narrowing.
"What I really want to know," he said, voice lower now, "is where the hell are the Ten Master Clans in all this?"
Mari and Mayumi both stiffened slightly.
"The last I checked," the captain continued, "we're on the brink of being invaded by an Imperial force with multiple Strategic-Class assets, and not one public move has come from the Juumonji, the Ichijou, or the Yotsuba."
Mayumi glanced to Mari, then answered cautiously.
"They're... watching. Preparing. But they don't act lightly."
"They have to act," the captain snapped, slamming a hand down onto the table. "This isn't political anymore. It's war. And when that gate opens—when Gabriella Mendez steps onto Japanese soil—it won't be a battle we win through caution and protocol."
The captain met her stare—but didn't argue.