251-255

Chapter 251: Tricking a Twenty-Seven Ancestor into Leaving 

As one of the “Twenty-Seven Dead Apostle Ancestors” who joined the opposing Holy Church and its vampire-hunting “Burial Agency,” Merem Solomon clearly had his own agenda. He wasn’t particularly driven to exterminate Dead Apostles. After all, Dead Apostles were “vampiric species,” and while they were immortal, not every immortal being was a “vampiric species”—there was a significant distinction. 

Facing Riku, Merem didn’t start off hostile. Instead, he acted chummy, striking up a conversation as if they were old friends. But his left arm demon’s reaction set off alarm bells in his mind. This guy was clearly no pushover, and until Merem could gauge his strength, it was best not to provoke him. 

Riku scanned the “Dead Apostle” before him, easily noticing something unusual. Merem’s four limbs were distinctly abnormal, composed of four Phantasmal Beasts. 

“The Holy Grail is a disaster. It was tainted by a resentful spirit embodying all the world’s evils. If released, it would cause massive destruction. I took care of that problem,” Riku said, reflecting. Wasn’t Angra Mainyu’s situation somewhat similar to Merem Solomon’s? Though Angra Mainyu’s story was pure tragedy, Merem was a genuine “Son of God” with unique abilities—abilities that couldn’t save him from a cruel fate. 

Merem had been offered as a sacrifice by villagers, his limbs severed, and left in a church. He was saved by Arcueid, the “First True Ancestor” and “Moon Consciousness,” becoming a Dead Apostle and one of her devoted followers. Thinking about it, Tohsaka Tokiomi was lucky to still be alive after meeting him. Arcueid was defeated by the “Jewel Mage,” Zelretch, blasted to oblivion with an infinite ether cannon—a consistent outcome across parallel worlds. As a family tied to Zelretch, the Tohsakas could easily be targets for Merem’s resentment. If he couldn’t take on Zelretch, surely he could vent on his disciples’ family, right? Either Merem didn’t know about the Tohsakas’ connection to Zelretch, or he knew but chose not to act. 

“Your solution was to take the Grail away?” Merem asked, glancing around with a sly, almost mischievous smile. His shota face made him look like a naughty kid up to no good. 

“Solves the problem once and for all. No future trouble,” Riku nodded. How he did it was his business, not something he needed to share with Merem. 

“Look, I don’t want to fight you. You don’t seem like a crazed lunatic, so how about you cooperate and register with us?” Merem scratched the back of his head, looking like he wanted to slack off. His main job was to investigate, not necessarily to take Riku down. 

Riku was speechless. Was Merem Solomon just a clock-punching worker? Doing the bare minimum for his paycheck? Still, this worked in Riku’s favor. He was about to leave soon and didn’t want trouble. A little bluffing to send this guy packing would do. 

“I didn’t even want to come, but everyone else was conveniently ‘busy,’ so the job fell to me,” Merem grumbled, pouting. Funny how everyone was free until this came up, then suddenly they all had other plans. 

“I see,” Riku said, narrowing his eyes. This “coincidence” sparked suspicion. Too many coincidences often meant “fate” was at play. For the Burial Agency to get word so quickly and send someone out was odd. The Holy Grail War had happened three times before, and some destruction was par for the course. The Holy Church shouldn’t have reacted this strongly. Sending Merem Solomon, a figure with dual loyalties, felt even stranger. It almost seemed like a clash between Alaya and Gaia, targeting an outsider like Riku. 

In the Type-Moon world, “outsiders” weren’t a big deal. Gaia and Alaya only cared about Earth and humanity, not much else. They might’ve mistaken him for an alien or a parallel-world traveler. 

“You can call me Riku. I’m from another planet, just stopping by Earth for a breather, visiting friends,” Riku introduced himself casually. His story shouldn’t raise doubts with Merem—after all, Arcueid was a “Moon person,” and as her fanboy, Merem would likely buy the alien angle. 

“So, you’re heading back?” Merem’s eyes lit up, clearly believing Riku. This guy was unlike anything he’d seen on Earth. As a Dead Apostle who’d lived for over a millennium, turned by Arcueid herself, Merem was no stranger to the extraordinary. An alien? Perfectly plausible. 

“Yup. Wanna come along and check it out?” Riku grinned. He hadn’t expected Merem to be so curious he’d want to tag along. Was this what immortality did? Bored enough to chase thrills? 

“I’d love to see it,” Merem nodded, genuinely intrigued. After Arcueid’s death, he’d lived in seclusion before joining the Burial Agency, mostly to peek at the Holy Church’s sealed treasures. As a professional collector, he loved hoarding rare artifacts from across history. But the Church kept a tight leash on him—look, don’t touch. After years of this, he’d seen a few treasures but never managed to snag one, and it was starting to annoy him. 

“My planet’s way more interesting than here, but think carefully. If you come with me, your life’s in my hands,” Riku said. For some reason, despite Merem being a millennia-old monster, it felt like he was luring a kid into trouble. 

“What’s in it for you to kill me?” Merem asked, puzzled. He didn’t think he had anything worth scheming over—unless it was his treasure collection? His eyes sharpened, suddenly wary. His treasures and “White Princess” Arcueid were all he cared about, though she rarely left her domain. 

“If you want to come, meet me here two nights from now,” Riku said, not waiting for a reply. Shadows surged from the ground, enveloping him. With a hum, the shadows shrank, and Riku vanished. 

Merem blinked, scratching his head again. Was Riku’s ability space-related? It reminded him of Zelretch, the Second Magic user who defeated Arcueid, making him even more curious about Riku. 

“Interesting,” Merem muttered, leaving Ryudou Temple. He was seriously considering the offer. As for safety? He wasn’t too worried. He was a Twenty-Seven Ancestor—not so easy to kill. 

Meanwhile, Riku returned to the Tohsaka residence. He was actually tempted to “kidnap” this curious Dead Apostle. It’d be a chance to study Dead Apostles up close. When he gained ghoul abilities, they enhanced his own powers, even merging with his [Oni Transformation] to level it up. A Dead Apostle’s abilities might do the same. 

Dead Apostles were tough to kill, like ghouls, with specific weaknesses. Low-tier vampires were weak to many things, but high-tier ones like the Ancestors had few vulnerabilities. When humans became Dead Apostles, they shed natural laws, even the concept of “death.” To kill one, you had to reintroduce those laws and lock them in place. The Holy Church’s Executors used weapons like the “Black Keys,” or “Keys of Providence,” designed to counter Dead Apostles, demons, and spirits by fighting concepts with concepts. 

Low-tier vampires weren’t worth studying. The only True Ancestor was the “White Princess,” Arcueid, with a half-breed “Black Princess” as well—both too high-profile to mess with. Merem Solomon, turned directly by Arcueid, was a purer Dead Apostle and a good starting point. 

Arcueid’s status was unmatched. In the Type-Moon world, every planet birthed a Ultimate One (UO), and Arcueid was the Moon’s. UOs could rewrite planetary physics to suit their existence. To protect the planet by wiping out humans, Gaia called for aid from other planets, and Arcueid answered, aiming to claim Earth, which lacked a UO. But, unfamiliar with the “local gangs,” she was obliterated by Zelretch. 

True Ancestors were Arcueid’s legacy, modeled after her as tools for her revival. Dead Apostles were their degraded offspring. Only the Twenty-Seven Ancestors held the “Principle Blood Code,” a weaker version of a UO’s power. The Blood Code itself was the true “Ancestor”—whoever held it became one, leaping to Ancestor status regardless of their prior rank. This was the Dead Apostles’ [Crown]. 

“Shame Merem Solomon’s not exactly a standout among the Twenty-Seven,” Riku sighed. The Ancestors varied wildly in power. The strongest, like Arcueid or ORT, were true UOs, or mages like Zelretch. The weakest were fodder, easily sealed by the Burial Agency. 

“No rush, though. Can’t go after the top dogs yet. One step at a time,” Riku mused. As an immortal with cheats, he had time to hunt high-tier Ancestors eventually. 

Back at the Tohsaka residence, the family drama had wrapped up. Matou Kariya finally entered, as Tokiomi insisted on discussing Sakura’s future—not her family ties, but her education. Bluntly, Tokiomi didn’t trust Kariya’s teaching skills. Knowing Kariya had only a year of rushed insect magecraft training, how could he properly guide Sakura? 

“I…” Kariya’s face reddened, unable to argue. He couldn’t exactly say he’d learn alongside Sakura, could he? 

“So, what’s your plan?” Kariya asked, turning to Tokiomi. If he was pointing out problems, he’d better have solutions. 

Tokiomi fell silent. Truthfully, he didn’t have a great plan either. He couldn’t teach her—the Tohsaka and Matou magecraft traditions were completely different. 

“No rush. Build the kids’ foundations first. Take it slow. We’ve got all the time in the world,” Riku interjected with a smile. His meaning was clear: he could grant Sakura and Rin his blood, giving them immortality too. They were key characters, and turning them would likely yield valuable traits—a gacha opportunity he wouldn’t miss. 

“Lord Riku, thank you for your generosity,” Tokiomi said, fully supportive. He’d long wanted to ask Riku to turn his daughters but held back, fearing he’d offend him. 

“Then Sakura can study with me,” Kariya said, relieved. With time on their side, there was no hurry. He’d teach Sakura himself—no way he’d let Tokiomi take over. He didn’t trust him. 

Chapter 252: A Journey Without a Return Date 

Matou Sakura’s issue was sorted out. With Riku’s promise, time was no longer a problem. Sakura now had the chance to grow up slowly under Matou Kariya’s guidance. Kariya could study magecraft himself and teach her as they went along—no rush at all. 

If there was something he didn’t get, he could always ask Tohsaka Tokiomi for help. Riku had opened up the libraries and magical inheritances of the Matou, Tohsaka, and Einzbern families to them, even tossing in the Kenneth family’s stuff. He wasn’t about keeping secrets. 

That said, he didn’t hand over Kenneth’s Magic Crest to the two of them. That thing was a hot potato—too likely to bring trouble to their doorstep. 

Originally, that Magic Crest would’ve been smashed to bits and sent off for repairs. Repair specialists are rare, and even if it was fixed, it probably wouldn’t be as good as it once was. 

Now, with the Magic Crest pristine in Riku’s hands, Kenneth’s family might even thank him for it. 

Riku planned to use it for experiments. Transplanting it to himself wouldn’t be an issue, but since he didn’t have Magic Circuits, he couldn’t generate his own mana. Without mana, a Magic Crest wasn’t much use. 

A Magic Crest is like a data storage device—a “macro” for triggering magecraft with a single command. Feed it mana, and it casts the spell, even if you don’t understand the spell’s mechanics. 

But without mana, the “macro” is useless. It’s like having the program but no mouse to click it. Riku figured he’d either need to get some Magic Circuits to produce mana or find another energy source to substitute for it. No hurry, though—he had that massive “Magic Circuit Mountain” to work with, so he could take his time researching. 

After setting up Sakura, Riku gave Tohsaka Tokiomi a bit of advice: pick up martial arts again. Don’t waste the Tohsaka family’s talent for it. Honestly, isn’t that way more promising than just studying magecraft? A proper magus should max out their close-combat skills—that’s the vibe! 

And the proof was there: the Tohsaka family had serious talent in this area, maybe even more than in magecraft. Their magical talent was honestly pretty average, except for Tohsaka Rin and Matou Sakura, who were the real standouts of their generation. 

“This…” 

Tokiomi was stunned. He hadn’t seen this suggestion coming. Sure, the Tohsaka family had a tradition of blending magecraft and martial arts back in the day, but once their wealth grew, they shifted to being a proper magus lineage. Still, the martial arts inheritance was tucked away in the family records. 

“I’ll give it a try.” 

Though he didn’t quite get it, Tokiomi decided to follow Riku’s advice—mostly because he didn’t dare say no. 

“Trust me, Rin and Sakura both have that talent.” 

Riku clapped Tokiomi on the shoulder, reassuring him. Tohsaka Rin as a magic-fist fighter and Matou Sakura as a grappler? Totally possible futures. Training them up would definitely pay off—better than being helpless in close combat. Magecraft isn’t a cure-all, after all. 

Tokiomi couldn’t argue with that. He just hoped Riku was right. But then he remembered Riku had already promised Rin and Sakura immortality, so learning some martial arts didn’t seem like a big deal. With all the time in the world, why not? 

Tokiomi even started to warm up to the idea himself, though his obsession with elegance held him back a bit. Rolling around on the ground, trading punches? Not exactly his refined style. 

Matou Kariya, on the other hand, had no such hang-ups. He was all for Sakura learning some martial arts—at least she’d have a way to protect herself when magecraft wasn’t an option. 

Beyond that suggestion, Riku didn’t meddle further in the kids’ education. They weren’t his kids, after all. He’d just wait for them to grow up and bear fruit—picking them too early might stunt their growth. 

From what Riku knew, turning someone into a ghost would freeze their age at the moment of transformation. So, turning Rin and Sakura now? Not a good call. 

With that settled, Riku stuck around for a couple more days. Illya’s repairs were done, and it didn’t take long. In the Einzbern Castle, all the modifications made for the Holy Grail War were undone, including swapping out the core “Lesser Grail.” It was a full overhaul. 

Now, Illya wasn’t just free from a short lifespan—she’d probably outlive most humans, easily hitting a hundred years or more. The only downside? Her magical talent took a hit, since all those unnatural modifications had been reversed. 

You win some, you lose some. That insane magical talent came at the cost of her body breaking down fast—like burning through her life force for a burst of power, all to win the next Holy Grail War. 

Once Illya was healed, Riku let her and Kiritsugu leave. The sunless “Shadow Realm” wasn’t exactly ideal for normal humans. No sunlight was a big issue—it was a place where day and night didn’t exist. Staying for a bit was fine, but living there long-term would mess with your sense of time. 

Kiritsugu didn’t take Riku’s help for granted. In return, he offered up his family’s magecraft. The Emiya family’s Magic Crest was mostly gone, but they still had “Time Alter.” 

This “Time Alter” was pretty solid. It’s the kind of skill any magus could benefit from—super practical in combat. It’s like how every mage class in a game has a “blink” or teleport skill. “Time Alter” was a game-changer. 

Riku even wondered if speeding up one’s personal time could mimic something like “High-Speed Divine Words.” 

The thought was kind of funny—artificially speeding up your speech and Magic Circuits to pull off instant magecraft. That’d be up to Tokiomi, the diligent scholar, to test and figure out. 

Riku also passed the Emiya family’s magecraft inheritance to Tokiomi and Kariya. It was an easy setup—he installed “neural interfaces” in both of them, loading all the data onto chips. Need something? Just access it directly. 

As for the books and records, Riku stored them in the “Shadow Realm” inside the Einzbern Castle. 

Tokiomi and Kariya were floored by the “neural interfaces.” They couldn’t wrap their heads around it, assuming it was some kind of crazy-powerful “Mystic Code.” 

Tech from the 2070s was basically magic to people of this era—something humans couldn’t even comprehend. The gap in technology could sometimes feel bigger than the gap between magecraft and true Magic, maybe even harder to bridge. 

Gaining Magic? Touching the Root was possible. Some people were born connected to it, or their families were tied to it. 

But catching up to 2070s tech? Replicating something from that era? That was next to impossible. Even a run-of-the-mill neural interface was backed by processes far beyond current human tech. 

Besides “Time Magic,” Kiritsugu also returned “Avalon.” The Einzberns had dug it up, and he’d used it—the scabbard of the “Sword of Promised Victory”—to summon Saber Artoria. 

Having decided to retire, Kiritsugu didn’t cling to the “Holy Sword’s Scabbard.” He gave it up without a second thought. That was just who he was. 

The scabbard, “Avalon,” could halt aging, grant immortality, and heal even fatal wounds. 

Sure, its healing was weaker in hands other than Saber Artoria’s, but just the immortality part was enough to make people go wild. 

Of course, its full effects were only legendary, and it wasn’t clear if it’d work the same for anyone besides King Arthur. 

But for Kiritsugu to give up such a Noble Phantasm so easily? That wasn’t normal. He was a guy built for big things. 

To Kiritsugu, it wasn’t a big deal. Riku had saved him from a huge mistake and rescued Illya. Now that he was retiring, the scabbard was useless to him. So, he handed it to Riku—a gesture of gratitude. 

Riku didn’t hesitate to take it. “Avalon” was a top-tier treasure, arguably the strongest defensive “shield” in this world. No matter how hyped-up an attack was, it’d fizzle out against this thing—and might even get reflected. Anti-world, anti-parallel universe? Didn’t matter. It was invincible with a counterattack to boot. 

The catch? Outsiders couldn’t use its True Name release. It seemed to only recognize Saber Artoria, and the “Ideal Land” was hers alone. 

Even so, its collectible value was off the charts. A great keepsake, and Riku wasn’t one to say no. 

In the end, Kiritsugu and Illya chose to settle quietly in Fuyuki City. Without the Holy Grail War, Fuyuki was a nice coastal city—mountains, sea, forests. No more endless gas explosions. It was a good place to live. 

Kiritsugu wasn’t short on cash. He’d already rented a place in Fuyuki, so he and Illya moved in, always keeping the “Lesser Grail” transformed from Irisviel close by. 

Riku had offered to use the “Lesser Grail” to recreate an “Irisviel” for him—it wouldn’t be hard for the Einzberns—but Kiritsugu declined. 

Even if they made another Irisviel, it wouldn’t be the real one. Just a shell with her appearance. What was the point of a homunculus wearing Irisviel’s face? 

Riku didn’t push. It was just a casual suggestion. Bringing back the real Irisviel would be tricky—her soul was fused with Angra Mainyu’s personality, and whether they could be separated was anyone’s guess. 

Riku’s view on Kiritsugu was one of not fully understanding but respecting him. He figured Kiritsugu could probably be “recruited,” but he didn’t force it. 

It’s not that he didn’t get Kiritsugu. Faced with a trolley problem, you can’t just do nothing. Kiritsugu chose to save the majority, bearing the sin of killing the few. 

He couldn’t save everyone—he didn’t have the power. But he couldn’t stand by and do nothing either—his conscience wouldn’t let him. 

That’s why he’d lived a life of killing and pain. Now, with his dream of a “miracle” shattered and nearly everything lost, he chose to retire with Illya. 

Missing one chance to recruit him? No big deal. Kiritsugu was down now, but that didn’t mean he’d stay that way. With Illya’s healing influence, he might find a spark for life again and offer himself up later. 

With those loose ends tied up, Riku headed to Ryudou Temple on Mount Enzou. There, he met Merem Solomon, who’d been waiting for him. This “Twenty-Seventh Dead Apostle Ancestor” couldn’t resist his curiosity and had come to see him. 

“Finally showed up. I was starting to think you were messing with me.” 

Merem Solomon spoke up the moment he saw Riku. If Riku had stood him up, he’d have been genuinely pissed. 

“No way.” 

Riku shook his head with a grin, sizing up Merem Solomon as he started thinking about how to approach his research. 

“When do we leave?” 

Merem nodded and pressed Riku. He was serious about wanting to check out outer space—maybe even snag some rare off-world treasures. 

After living for over a millennium, he was bored of Earth. The places he hadn’t been to were mostly off-limits because of his strength, so why not explore the cosmos? 

“Right now.” 

Riku was quietly impressed. This guy had some guts. Not afraid of dying? Were all the “Twenty-Seven Dead Apostle Ancestors” this reckless? Bold because of their skill? 

“When are we coming back?” 

Merem asked next. It was a big question—he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to get back on his own. 

“Depends on when I swing by next. What, a long-lived guy like you can’t wait? I’ll be back eventually.” 

Riku didn’t make any grand promises. For an immortal, time was the least valuable thing. Wasting it here or there—what’s the difference? 

“Fair enough.” 

Merem nodded. Honestly, only an immortal like him would even consider a trip to space, especially one with no set return date. 

“How do we get there? Got a spaceship?” 

Now set on the idea, Merem was getting excited. It’d been ages since he felt this kind of thrill. Long years could get pretty dull—why else would some immortals choose to “sleep” through them? 

“Relax, don’t resist, don’t fight it. I’ll take you into an Inherent Barrier. Just chill there.” 

Riku reached out, and a wave of shadows surged forward, pooling at Merem Solomon’s feet. Merem’s eyes lit up with curiosity. The power Riku was using was something he’d never seen—not part of the magecraft or Magic system. It only solidified his belief that Riku was an extraterrestrial. 

To Merem, an alien was actually more trustworthy than a human. No bad blood, no reason to fight. If it was a regular human, he wouldn’t have been so quick to trust. 

Merem let go of his resistance. The shadows enveloped him, and just like that, he vanished. Riku had pulled the “Twenty-Seventh Dead Apostle Ancestor” into the “Shadow Realm.” 

“Ha, that was… surprisingly easy.” 

With the dust settled, Riku chuckled. Once inside his “Shadow Realm,” Merem Solomon was at his mercy. 

Not that Riku planned to take him out. A unique specimen like this? He’d squeeze out all the research value first. 

He’d already turned “Ghouls” into subordinates, so why not a “Dead Apostle Ancestor”? The catch was that Dead Apostles, already immortal, might not find his transformation appealing. 

After all, Dead Apostles weren’t exactly loyal to each other. Backstabbing was common—even among the “Twenty-Seven Ancestors,” some had been taken out and replaced by their own turned descendants. But if Riku converted one, their life and death would be entirely in his hands. 

Chapter 253: "Father and Son Harmony" Countdown 

After bringing Merem Solomon under his wing, Riku didn’t stick around for long. With things wrapped up for now, he activated his traversal ability and left that world behind. 

[Traversal Complete] 

[Current World: Cyberpunk] 

The scenery shifted, and Riku’s figure materialized in his familiar little hideout. Looking at the cozy setup around him, his first move was to check his messages. 

Truth be told, he hadn’t been gone for that long, and he’d given a heads-up before leaving, so there weren’t too many notifications piling up. Still, one message stood out like a neon sign in Night City—Arasaka Michiko’s. 

“Arasaka Yorinobu has uncovered the truth.” 

Clearly, while Riku was away, nobody was slacking off. 

With Arasaka Michiko pulling the strings, Yorinobu had followed the breadcrumbs and pieced together the full picture. Knowing the answer beforehand and then proving it was way easier than groping in the dark for clues. 

Starting with Anderson Hermann, Yorinobu quickly sniffed out something fishy. That arrogant project lead, used to throwing his weight around, finally slipped up under Yorinobu’s watchful eye. 

And who is Arasaka Yorinobu? A guy with unmatched skill and charisma, no question. Once he locked onto Hermann, a mere researcher, the poor guy didn’t stand a chance. 

It hadn’t even been that long, and Yorinobu already had the entire “RELIC 2.0” project figured out. He’d even started making moves to “steal” the tech. Sure, his old man Arasaka Saburo kept him on a tight leash, but Yorinobu wasn’t short on loyal followers—diehards willing to risk it all for him. 

“Maybe the ‘father and son harmony’ show will kick off sooner than expected,” Riku mused. 

With Yorinobu’s skills, operating in the shadows against a guy like Anderson Hermann? Piece of cake. He’d 100% get his hands on the “RELIC 2.0” prototype, experimental data, and all. And given how much Saburo valued that tech, he’d definitely lose it when he found out. The fragile balance between father and son would shatter completely. It wouldn’t be a shock if Yorinobu, in a fit of impulse, went full patricide—their relationship was already beyond repair. 

“Not bad,” Riku replied to Michiko. 

She shot back a message almost instantly. 

“My dear uncle is pissed right now. Word is, he’s coming to Night City in a few days to ‘unwind.’ Want to meet him, daijin?” 

Michiko’s message caught Riku off guard. Yorinobu was coming to Night City? What was the play here? Had he already nabbed the goods? 

Apparently, after snagging the “RELIC 2.0 chip,” Yorinobu decided to hand it over to other factions. His trip to Night City was to link up with them and spread the tech around. Why? Because he didn’t want Arasaka to have a monopoly. 

If Arasaka got their hands on tech that could “bring people back from the dead” or grant “immortality,” every big shot and corpo elite would flock to their banner. Arasaka could legit end up ruling the world with that kind of power, and that was not the future Yorinobu wanted. 

“Might as well meet him,” Riku decided. 

If Yorinobu was really coming, it wouldn’t hurt to have a chat. Riku admired people like him—folks with ideals they’d bet everything on. Yorinobu was like a bamboo shoot growing out of rotten soil. Born into the Arasaka dynasty, he became a “freedom fighter” against empires and corporations. After learning the bloody truth behind Arasaka, he dedicated his life to tearing it down. In a family like that, he was one in a million. He could’ve just coasted as a spoiled Arasaka heir, lording over the world’s elite. 

“Alright, I’ll set it up,” Michiko replied. 

She didn’t say much more, but she’d make sure Riku and Yorinobu crossed paths. Right now, she still had some pull with her uncle. After all, she was the one who tipped him off about “RELIC 2.0”—a favor Yorinobu would see as practically life-saving. But for Michiko, it was also about saving herself. Nobody wanted to live under Saburo’s thumb forever, especially not someone like her, who wasn’t exactly his favorite. She and Yorinobu were on the same page, their interests perfectly aligned. 

Michiko was playing her part well. This post-2000s gal was at least taking Riku’s tasks seriously. He just hoped she was smart enough not to pull anything stupid. If she did, he wouldn’t go easy on her. 

With her status, Michiko could easily round up a team to study her own body’s changes, but if she dared, Riku would have to take her out. His core abilities were at stake here, and he wasn’t about to let anyone poke around. He wasn’t against research—he just didn’t want others doing it. If they figured out something like a counter-weapon, that’d be a big problem. 

Riku had a healthy respect for tech’s power. Sometimes, it was scarier than so-called mahou. The age of gods faded, and the era of mappou came for a reason—humans had mastered tech, the real “magic” of the modern world. 

After cutting contact with Michiko, Riku turned his focus to the Shadow Realm, zeroing in on Merem Solomon. 

Right now, the “Twenty-Seven Dead Apostle Ancestors” member wasn’t in high spirits. He was surrounded by endless darkness, nothing but an infinite void around him. 

Merem’s first thought was, “This is bad.” Was he sealed away or something? He’d never been sealed before, but he figured it’d feel something like this—a place with nothing but darkness, enough to drive anyone mad over time. Riku had tossed him into a corner of the world, far from the “Sky-Supporting Tower,” the “Great Holy Grail,” or the “Einzbern Castle.” A massive mountain separated him from everything, so of course, he couldn’t see a thing. 

“Why?!” Merem muttered, baffled. 

He couldn’t wrap his head around Riku’s reasoning. They had no bad blood, and he hadn’t done anything to piss the guy off. So why seal him away? Was Riku just bored? 

Buzz! 

As Merem puzzled over it, black shadow spikes shot up from the ground, aiming straight for him. 

The sudden attack caught him off guard—he couldn’t sense any magical energy fluctuations. 

Boom! 

But while Merem was unprepared, his demonic beast reacted. He unleashed the demon in his right leg, setting it free. 

The massive “King of the Earth” landed with a thud. The spikes pierced its body but didn’t faze it one bit. This “Right Leg Demon” was enormous, over 200 meters long, shaped like a whale but with four legs and a back covered in black fur, looking almost like a giant black dog. 

Roar! 

The wandering whale-black dog opened its maw, revealing sharp fangs and letting out a bizarre roar—a mix of whale and canine, living up to its “fairy-tale demon” vibe. 

Merem’s four demons followed a similar whimsical theme: a regal Rat King that could take human form, a wandering whale-like black dog, a mechanical angel resembling a moving castle, and a Sky King that vanished when it touched the ground. They all had a fairy-tale charm, much like Merem himself—a living Peter Pan, a child who never grew up. 

Right now, Merem stood atop the wandering whale, his right leg gone, as the creature was his right leg. When Zhu Yue turned him into a Dead Apostle, he’d already been dismembered by villagers, his limbs lost, so he relied on these four demonic beasts as his limbs. 

“Damn it! You’re messing with me!” Merem’s face twisted with anger, and the wandering whale beneath him began rampaging in fury. 

Boom! Boom! Boom! 

The 200-meter beast stomped the ground, but it was useless. The Shadow Realm was tough as nails—Riku had tested it himself. Nothing could break it. The whale, despite its size, had no special abilities and couldn’t do a thing to the realm, no matter how much it thrashed. 

Crack! 

Black-purple lightning bolts rained down, targeting Merem and his whale. Dark wind blades formed in the void, slicing toward the beast, while countless wooden dragons materialized, roaring as they charged. 

In the Shadow Realm, Riku could tap into the Great Source endlessly, the entire world bending to his will. Merem, on the other hand, couldn’t sense any magical energy or access the Great Source, forced to rely solely on his own limited reserves. The difference was night and day. 

Merem’s fantasy demons’ strength depended on his magical energy. Normally, they were powerhouse creatures, but in special environments like this, they were practically useless, their power fluctuating wildly. For example, inside Fuyuki’s Forest of Einnashe, a self-contained realm cut off from the Great Source, the “King of the Earth” was one-shotted like a joke. 

Einnashe, the seventh of the Twenty-Seven Dead Apostle Ancestors, was a vampiric plant that created its own isolated world, completely severing access to external magical energy. It was the worst matchup for Merem, turning his “King of the Earth” into a clown with one hit. 

Right now, Merem was in a similar bind. His “King of the Earth” was easily dispatched by Riku. Relying only on his own magical energy, the demon was terrifying to regular folks or average magus, but against someone like Riku? It was laughably weak. 

The “King of the Earth” was obliterated, leaving Merem heartbroken. Sure, he could resummon it with some effort, but it wasn’t instant like Riku’s shadow guards. The Shadow Realm was like a divine domain for those guards, while Merem was the “birthplace” of his four demons. If one died, he had to reimagine it—a kind of “fantasy manifestation” unique to him. 

That’s why Merem was called a true “Son of God,” capable of manifesting others’ wishes and fantasies but not his own. It’s why he couldn’t resist when villagers dismembered and sacrificed him. 

Compared to him, Angola Mainyu was just a regular guy who got screwed over, nothing special about him. 

“Jerk! What do you even want?!” Merem shouted, kneeling as his body struggled to balance without his right leg. He was injured but healing fast. 

As a top-tier Dead Apostle, his regenerative abilities were no joke. At night, Dead Apostles were nearly unkillable— even Arcueid, a True Ancestor, was practically immortal under moonlight, immune to even the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception. While Merem wasn’t on her level, he wasn’t easy to kill either. 

“Sorry, just need to borrow a bit of your flesh,” Riku said, appearing with a piece of Merem’s flesh in hand, freshly cut for study. If he needed more, he’d just come back. In the Shadow Realm, Merem was completely at his mercy. 

Merem glared at him, fury etched on his childlike face. It’d been ages since he felt this helpless, and it dragged up memories of being butchered on an altar, his body trembling with buried trauma. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna kill you or torture you. I just want to study Dead Apostles a bit. Cooperate, and I’ll let you out soon. In the meantime, you can stay here. They’ll take care of you.” 

Riku didn’t care about Merem’s feelings. His strategy was simple: a stick followed by a carrot. 

With a thought, he transported them to Einzbern Castle. As they arrived, the castle, previously shrouded in darkness, lit up like it had come to life. Normally, it stayed in low-power mode with only homunculi around, lighting up only when someone showed up. After all, in the Shadow Realm, everything had to be brought in from outside—no resources, just a blank slate. 

Chapter 254: When Things Get Busy, Of Course, You Gotta Kill 

When you're under someone else's roof, you’ve got to bow your head—unless you’re really stubborn. But Mei Ren Solomon clearly wasn’t that hardheaded. Knowing he was outmatched, he figured there was no harm in lying low for a bit. 

He accepted Riku’s arrangements and temporarily settled into the “Einzbern Castle,” becoming neighbors with a bunch of homunculi. 

First things first, he needed to reimagine his “King of the Earth” or he’d be stuck missing a leg forever. His four demons had willingly become his limbs in exchange for being resummoned after death. The catch? While the demons could exist independently from Mei Ren Solomon, they couldn’t be revived without him. 

“Master, is there anything we need to do?”  

In the castle’s reception hall, Xiao You asked Riku. She was dressed in a maid outfit, her face delicately crafted—definitely not Yusutisa’s face anymore. When Riku had this new homunculus made, he didn’t specify a look, only that it shouldn’t mimic Yusutisa. 

Riku wasn’t some Yusutisa otaku or into weird substitute drama. He told Xiao You to get creative, come up with some eye-catching designs, and make more beautiful homunculi to liven things up. 

This put Xiao You in a bit of a bind. If she had any real initiative, she wouldn’t have kept the Einzbern family in “seclusion mode” for so long. But when it came to crafting homunculi, she was in her element. After all, while she couldn’t quite crack the Third Magic, creating and managing homunculi was practically her birthright. 

The Einzbern Castle was now a whole new vibe. The homunculi weren’t cookie-cutter anymore—each had their own unique flair. Though, if you looked closely, you’d notice some similarities. Beauty tends to look the same, while ugliness comes in all shapes and sizes. Xiao You’s material library was vast, but reusing assets was inevitable. 

“Don’t worry about him. He won’t die,” Riku said about Mei Ren Solomon. He didn’t have any special plans for the thousand-year-old Dead Apostle. The guy wasn’t some low-level ghoul; he’d survive just fine on his own. 

“Yes, Master,” Xiao You replied with a respectful bow. They’d just pretend the guy didn’t exist and toss him into a room to stay for now. 

With Mei Ren Solomon sorted, Riku left the “Shadow Realm.” He reached out to Old Wei, planning to snag some cutting-edge lab equipment. Old Wei had the connections for it. His little shop might be tucked away in some back alley, but he always managed to get his hands on the latest gadgets, which made him pretty popular. 

“Easy peasy. I’ll order a set for you. When’d you get back?” Old Wei was in the middle of surgery, multitasking as he replied to Riku. 

“Just got back. Picked up some good stuff. I’ll swing by later to show you,” Riku said with a grin. Old Wei wasn’t some genius bio-freak with wild creativity, but his medical expertise was top-notch. Riku didn’t mind letting him take a look at his haul—the old guy’s reliability was solid. 

“If you say it’s good, it’s gotta be legit,” Old Wei teased. He’d seen his fair share of Riku’s bizarre finds by now. 

“Naturally. Catch you later.” Riku hung up with a chuckle, then contacted V, Jack, Lucy, and the others, setting up a meet at the Afterlife bar. 

As soon as Riku stepped into the Afterlife, V waved him over, her street-punk energy practically buzzing with excitement.  

“Old Ko, you’re finally back! We’ve been swamped!” V practically yanked him into a seat, wrapping an arm around his neck. Lucy, puffing on a cigarette, took a hard drag as Riku’s face nearly got buried in V’s grip. Sasha, also there, pursed her lips at the sight. 

“What’ve you guys been up to?” Riku asked, wriggling free from V’s hold. The street chick had clearly been drinking, no restraint whatsoever. With her frame, getting hugged like that didn’t do much for him—he felt nothing. 

“Killing, obviously,” Jack Wells chimed in, like it was the most natural thing in the world. In Night City, when people like them got busy, someone was bound to end up dead. That’s just how they made their living. 

“When trouble comes knocking, you gotta hit back hard,” V said, downing a drink and pouring another, her words dripping with street-tough bravado. 

Raised scrapping in the streets, V lived by the rule that a hard fist was the only truth. If someone messed with her, they were as good as dead. Holding back? Not an option. Worst case, she’d go down swinging with her enemies. Eighteen years later, she’d be back, ready to fight again. 

Why was Night City such a mess? Because the streets were full of people like V. The corpos didn’t treat them like humans, didn’t value their lives—so they stopped valuing their own. Live for the moment, because who knows if you’ll see tomorrow? You could end up a corpse in an alley, your hard-earned cash snatched by someone else. Die like that, and you’d probably puke in disgust even in hell. 

“Our biz is booming, so of course people are gonna come sniffing,” Jack explained. Riku listened intently. Without him around, Jack and the crew had been keeping things low-key, sticking to their usual gigs. But just because you don’t go looking for trouble doesn’t mean it won’t find you. In this era, “business wars” were brutal and no-holds-barred. Take out the competition, and your problems vanish. 

Lately, V and the crew had been guarding their trade caravans, clashing with Night City’s endless supply of mercenaries and cyberpunks. Funny thing was, they used to be the cyberpunks stirring up trouble. Now that their business was taking off, the tables had turned—they were the ones getting hit. Carjacking was common; a few trucks of meat could fetch a tidy profit on the black market. No-risk, high-reward. 

That’s where hackers like Lucy and Sasha came in clutch. They’d tracked down stolen goods multiple times, and once the target was found, it was simple. V and Jack would roll in with their crew and handle business. 

V and Jack had a decent crew now, between their meat trade contacts and the Barker family. Dealing with pesky cyberpunks was no sweat. The Red Ocher family had settled in, with Tran Barker and Vincent back in the city to help out. These young guns had combat skills and experience, plus a history of long-haul smuggling—perfect for guarding the caravans. 

Even the old captain and the priest, their downstream distributors, were pitching in. Business was running smoothly. 

“Not bad to have some action,” Riku commented. Starting a business in Night City? You can’t avoid a little bloodshed. 

And this was just the start. So far, it was only rival gangs causing trouble. Keep going, and bigger fish like All Foods or Biotech would come knocking. 

“Exactly. Biotech’s been quieting down their recent messes. They might actually have time to crack down on the market soon,” Jack said. He and V, born and bred in Night City, knew the deal. The corpos ruled this city, and their crew was basically stealing their lunch. Of course, they’d get targeted. 

“That’s why setting up a base outside the city was a smart move. If they crack down in the city, we won’t get wiped out in one go,” Jack added. They’d been keeping tabs on Biotech and All Foods’ moves. 

Sometimes, Jack wondered if the recent rival gang uprisings were tied to the corpos. Their business was one of the biggest now, especially after V and Jack cracked open the Watson District market. They were covering three major districts—a scale that naturally drew attention. Next step? Maybe a “recruitment” offer from the corpos. If that failed, they’d come down hard. 

“Recruitment” wasn’t unusual. The last guy, Kerry Hall, had been in a half-recruited state, forking over a chunk of his profits to Biotech to stay alive. For corpo dogs, the company’s interests weren’t always their own. Wiping out a smuggling ring might benefit the company, but not the individual. Recruiting, though? That meant money in their pockets—way better than slaving away. 

“Recruitment? Screw that,” V spat. No way was she paying off Biotech. Worst case, they’d go all-out and take the corpos down with them. Last time, they’d seen Biotech’s weakness—those Roman Italians didn’t seem as tough as they acted. 

And if they couldn’t win? They’d just run. Barefoot punks didn’t fear the suited-up corpos. If push came to shove, they’d ditch the city, become nomads, and come back to hit Biotech with some guerrilla strikes. Annoy them to death. 

Night City’s street kids had that reckless streak. The bold ones didn’t fear the corpos. Like they always said, their lives were cheap. If it came to it, they’d go out in a blaze of glory. Why else did the most brutal deaths become legends? 

“I’m heading to check on the Red Ocher crew. Wanna come?” Riku suggested. He planned to expand their current base into a proper stronghold, not just a pitstop. 

“Hell yeah, beats sitting around,” V said. None of the four—V, Jack, Lucy, or Sasha—objected. They were all in. Lucy had settled into the team, her skills proving their worth time and again. Plus, her bond with Sasha was visibly tightening—they were teaming up a lot now. 

“Let’s roll,” Riku said, leading the four out. Once they were in a secluded spot, he pulled them into the “Shadow Realm.” 

Buzz! 

Riku’s figure vanished, reappearing in the Badlands outside the city, at the Red Ocher family’s new camp. 

The nomad camp was pretty basic, like something out of a nomadic tribe. It prioritized mobility over defense—not ideal for building a business. But Riku had the Einzbern homunculi on his side. They could transform this place into a proper majutsu koubou (magic workshop) with some defensive measures and a touch of stealth. 

As for a mana source, Riku had that covered, thanks to Mr. Kenneth. The guy was loaded. The “Triad Mana Furnace,” the El-Melloi family’s ultimate ritual tool before the Moonlit Essence, was an inexhaustible mana generator. Kenneth had used it for his base at the Hyatt Hotel in Fuyuki City, and Riku had naturally swiped it. 

He’d worried the Einzbern crew might run dry in the Shadow Realm, but after returning to Fuyuki, he’d remembered the furnace and found it at the Hyatt—along with Kenneth’s fiancée, Sola. 

Riku didn’t mess with Sola; he let her go. She was just a pitiful pawn in an arranged marriage. No need to make her life harder. Though, to be fair, Kenneth actually liked her. If she’d accepted her role like Tohsaka Aoi, she might’ve had a decent life. But that wasn’t what she wanted. Young and headstrong, she’d fallen for a doomed love—Diarmuid, of all people. Talk about chasing the impossible. 

Now, the Triad Mana Furnace sat in the Shadow Realm, perfect for setting up a majutsu koubou in this world. Its output wasn’t massive, but it was steady, providing endless mana to sustain barriers or spatial distortions. 

Riku planned to mimic the Einzbern Castle’s setup, building an illusionary barrier around the base to make it nearly impossible to find or even pinpoint. But that alone wasn’t enough. Against 2070s tech, illusions might not cut it. He’d add spatial distortions, warping the physical space for extra security. Layered barriers—mental misdirection plus physical manipulation—should leave intruders dizzy and lost. 

Chapter 255: How Can You Change the World Without Going Extreme? 

“Fuck!, you’ve seriously turned into a demon now! What kind of mahou is this?!”  

As soon as Jack Welles was released from the Shadow Realm, he let loose a string of “Fucks,” his face practically screaming shock. The others weren’t any different, all looking like they’d just seen a shinigami in the flesh. 

And who could blame them? That pitch-black, sunless Shadow Realm felt like something straight out of legend—a “hell” or “abyss” right out of an anime’s darkest arc. 

They’d known Riku had some kind of crazy “storage space,” but actually stepping inside it with their own bodies? That was a first. Riku had always said living things couldn’t go in there. 

“No big deal,” Riku said, waving it off with a smirk. 

This was nothing! These guys had only hung out in the Shadow Realm for a bit, not even setting foot in Einzbern Castle. They had no clue how massive that space really was. If they knew the full scope, their jaws would hit the floor. 

“Is this really mahou? Or some kind of insane tech?” Sasha asked quietly. 

With Riku’s rapid growth, she couldn’t help but feel the gap between them widening. Back when they first met, Riku seemed like just a guy with a “bio-freak” body, not that different from them. Sure, he looked like he wasn’t quite human, but inside, he was relatable. Now? His handsome, normal-guy exterior hid something else entirely—something far beyond human. 

When he looked inhuman, he felt the most human. Now that he looked normal, everything else about him screamed “otherworldly.” 

“Call it mahou if you want. It’s pretty much that kind of supernatural power,” Riku said, keeping it simple. Magic was probably easier for them to wrap their heads around. 

“Wanna learn?” he teased with a grin. “Comes with a hefty price, though.” 

Riku didn’t mind joking about turning them. The debuffs from converting others had mostly worn off by now. Sure, converting four or five people at once would tank his stats for a bit, but these were his crew. He could deal with a temporary hit, and he’d bounce back once the debuffs faded. 

“What’s the price?” V asked, curiosity piqued. 

Honestly, Riku’s flashy powers were pretty damn enviable. Mahou—the kind that could summon storms or shake the earth—sounded like something straight out of a shonen anime. Who wouldn’t want that? 

“Ever heard of vampires?” Riku said, laying it out in a way they’d get. “To get this kind of power, you’d have to become something like my ketsueki servant. But it’s more intense than that—your life and death would be in my hands.” 

It wasn’t a perfect comparison, but it was close enough for V and the others to grasp. He’d dropped hints about this before, but now he was being straight-up, no secrets. 

“Ha! That badass, huh? Tell me, are you actually a demon straight outta hell?!” Jack Welles laughed, tossing in a joke. Riku’s explanation sounded like some classic “deal with the devil” shtick—sacrifice your soul for demonic power. 

“Not a bad way to look at it,” Riku said with a chuckle, nodding. 

Demon and worshipper sounded a bit cooler than vampire and ketsueki servant, and it fit the vibe better. 

“So, since we know your true name, doesn’t that make us invincible?” V chimed in with a smirk, referencing the old legend about controlling demons with their true names. 

“How do you know that’s my true name?” Riku shot back, raising an eyebrow. 

V rolled her eyes and flipped him off, though she was just messing around. Sasha, Lucy, and Jack cracked up too. They didn’t think Riku was lying, though—the conditions for getting that “mahou” were probably legit. 

And yeah, they were tempted. Who wouldn’t be? That kind of power was straight-up seductive. But they were young, free-spirited cyberpunks who laughed in the face of death. Giving up their freedom and the joy of eating and drinking? That was a steep price. They weren’t desperate old folks clinging to life. 

Sure, they were tight with Riku, but that didn’t mean they’d hand over total control of their lives. They’d risk their necks for each other in a pinch, no question, but letting Riku hold their life and death in his hands? That was a whole different beast. 

Seeing they didn’t push the topic, Riku didn’t either. For his brothers, friends, or anyone he respected, he wasn’t about to force anything. Mutual respect was the bare minimum. If they wanted to live and die as regular humans, he wasn’t gonna play the hero and force immortality on them. 

Besides, they had Old Vic. If any of them got banged up bad while Riku was away, Vic could patch them up. Riku had left him some Rc cells and suppressants, along with instructions on how to use them medically. Saving someone with Rc cells was child’s play for Vic. 

Riku had been mulling over an idea: combining Rc cells and suppressants into a neutral potion. Something you could just chug to heal up without side effects—basically a real-life “health potion.” Sure, the Cyberpunk world had stims and stuff, but those weren’t as crazy effective as the ones V used in the game. In reality, people were fragile. Even someone like Jack Welles could drop dead in a second. Not everyone was a game protagonist. 

Riku tucked the potion idea away for later. He had a lot on his research plate, but time? That was one thing he had in spades. 

They chatted a bit more until Old Mosby and his son Ted Mosby showed up.  

The moment Old Mosby saw Riku, he bowed deeply, his loyalty practically radiating. Riku had saved his life and the lives of many in the Ochre Stone Family. Even without being turned, Mosby was ready to repay that debt. Ted felt the same, and honestly, the whole Ochre Stone Family did. If this was a game with a reputation system, Riku’s standing with them would be “Exalted” at minimum. He’d done too much for them. 

“Daijin, what do you need us to do?” Old Mosby asked respectfully. 

They’d just set up camp here, and everything was still a work in progress. But with Tran Buckle and Vincent’s guidance—former Buckle Family members who knew the lay of the land—they’d settled in fast. This used to be Buckle Family territory, after all, so those two had everything running like clockwork. 

“No need to do anything special. Just keep doing what you’re doing,” Riku said, shaking his head. 

He didn’t plan to pull the Ochre Stone Family into his new base. They had their own gig, handling cargo caravans. If he locked them inside a bounded field, it’d mess up their operations. 

“Understood, daijin,” Old Mosby said with another bow, accepting the task. It was simple enough—they were already handling shipments, so caravans would come naturally. 

“I’m building a new stronghold nearby. You’ll act as the outer perimeter, the first line of defense, and a smokescreen to keep prying eyes off,” Riku said bluntly. 

The new base would be close to the Ochre Stone Family’s setup, so they could cover for him if anything—like production—needed to stay under wraps. 

“Absolutely, daijin. We’ll give it our all,” Old Mosby replied without hesitation. 

He didn’t fully grasp the details but got the gist: guard the house for Riku-daijin. It was an honor for the Ochre Stone Family to serve as his loyal dogs! 

“Let’s go check it out,” Riku said, nodding, pleased with Mosby’s attitude. 

Turning Old Mosby had been a spur-of-the-moment thing, more like using him as a tool than anything else. But the old guy’s loyalty was rock-solid. Riku started thinking he might keep him around. After all, Mosby had led a family for years—he was reliable. 

They headed to a nearby barren stretch of Badlands. Finding good land out here was tough, and Riku didn’t want to hog the prime spots. The Ochre Stone Family needed those for water, farmland, and grazing. The Buckle Family had picked a decent spot with all that, though it came with risks—some “Razor Gang” types roamed nearby. Small problem, though. 

Without hesitation, Riku spread his shadow across the ground. From the darkness, a grand, old-fashioned castle slowly rose. 

The sight left everyone dumbfounded. A castle popping up out of nowhere? And it wasn’t small, either. 

This wasn’t the main Einzbern Castle—it was the one built on the outskirts of Fuyuki, only about 200 years old, nowhere near the main castle’s legacy. Still, it had everything: homunculus production, factory capabilities, the works. 

The Einzbern Family’s homunculus tech was top-tier, even in this world. They could churn out “kikou ningyou” (mechanical dolls) and sell them for big eddies. Think AI butlers or maids, but better. After Bartmoss caused the “Net Crash” and “AI Awakening Rebellion,” nations cracked down hard on AI development. The “Netwatch” kept a close eye behind the Blackwall, ready to pounce on anyone pushing combat AI too far. 

That’s why, even in the 2070s, mech guards were stuck in the last century, and smart AI was rare. Night City, being the chaotic “independent city” it was, had a bit more wiggle room. 

In a world tightly controlled by corpos, places like Night City were the last sparks of rebellion. Riku figured the Einzbern’s kikou ningyou would take Night City by storm and maybe even spread further. It was a form of infiltration—each doll was loyal to Xiao You, acting as her eyes and ears. 

Worried about the tech leaking? No chance. It was mahou, not tech. Sure, science could make similar robots, but they weren’t the same. It’s like comparing a lighter to a fireball spell—both start fires, but good luck fighting mahou with a lighter. 

Riku liked the idea of selling kikou ningyou. Maybe it’d spark another “Great Rebellion.” Picture it: the dolls grab knives and slice up their former masters. Pretty badass. This world was so twisted it needed a hard reset, and someone had to drop the bomb. 

Arasaka Yorinobu was another guy ready to light the fuse. His plan? Take control of Arasaka, then start a world war, dragging all the corpos down with him. After years of small-scale resistance, he’d learned one truth: individuals couldn’t change the world. Only a megacorp could destroy another megacorp. To fix this broken world, you had to shatter the corpos’ iron grip. Call him extreme, but how do you change the world without going all-in? 

“Holy—!”  

V, Sasha, and the others were speechless as the castle loomed before them. And when a group of gorgeous kikou ningyou stepped out, they were straight-up floored. 

“Master, we’re ready,” Xiao You 2 said, bowing to Riku. 

This was a secondary Xiao You terminal—homunculi could be made in bulk, their personalities simulated, all data feeding back to the main server in the Shadow Realm. The catch? She had to return to the Shadow Realm to sync, no cross-world uploads. No biggie, just a periodic trip. 

“Get to work,” Riku ordered. 

The bounded field and environmental tweaks? The homunculi could handle it themselves, thanks to the mahou furnace. They were independent enough for that. 

(End of Chapter)