Risebelle took a step forward. “Roselle,” she said carefully, “do you remember? That battle with Abner… and the form you took?”

  Roselle’s eyes flickered with recognition. “Of course, I remember! I could never forget.”

  The memory came unbidden, flooding back like a dam breaking.

  The Battle Against Abner… A single, echoing beep had marked Runebelle’s lifeforce hitting 0%.

  Roselle had stood there, frozen. The world blurred at the edges, colors melting into one another. Noise faded—except for her own heartbeat, pounding, relentless.

  ‘No. No. No.’

  Then, something inside her snapped.

  Her body had twisted, stretched—growing taller, older. Her magic surged beyond her limits, clawing out of her in waves.

  Abner, the so-called Chosen One of Light had stood across from her, bathed in golden radiance. He had been an Elite among Elite Mages of the headmaster.

  And yet—

  He had never looked so small. His light magic flared, but it was dim in the face of Roselle’s rampage.

  Abner had spoken between heavy breaths. “What… are you?”

  She had answered, but she didn’t even recognize her own voice.

  She had become the storm. The executioner. The reckoning.

  If it hadn’t been for Abner’s Luminous Beacon, she would have killed him before Magical Rupture—the backlash from overloading her own power slowed her down.

  That delay had been just enough for him to unleash his Extreme Magic. It had taken Risebelle stepping in and facing the extreme magic with Roselle to bring him down.

  The Memory faded.

  Roselle exhaled sharply. “I remember everything.”

  Risebelle crossed her arms,. “Then you know what that means…. Magical Rupture. Your body most likely isn’t ready to handle that form again.”

  Risebelle moved before she even thought about it and stepped directly in front of Kintovar. Her stance was firm. “I’m not letting you do this. I’m not putting Roselle’s life on the line for one of your experiments.”

  A thick silence settled between them.

  Kintovar tilted her head slightly and observed Risebelle with something that almost looked like… amusement. Then, she chuckled softly. “Wow. You really have grown, haven’t you?”

  Risebelle’s glare didn’t waver. “Don’t patronize me.”

  Kintovar responded calmly. ”This is the first time you’ve ever openly challenged me on something like this. The old you would’ve followed orders without question.”

  Haras suddenly grinned and nodded excitedly. “Oh, yeah! Risebelle’s really changed! She’s learned to like and love!”

  Risebelle’s eye twitched. “Don’t say it like that.”

  Haras clapped her hands together. “Oh, but it’s true! Look at you, standing up for your little sister! That’s growth!” She sniffled playfully. “I’m so proud.”

  Risebelle groaned. “Haras—”

  Haras wiped an imaginary tear. “She cares so much. She’d fight a whole mad scientist for her baby sister.”

  Risebelle lowered her eyes and folded her arms. “I…hate you.”

  Haras beamed. “That’s just another way to say you love me!”

  Kintovar shook her head. “Alright, enough. I get it. Risebelle, you don’t trust this plan. I understand.”

  Risebelle huffed. “You better.”

  Kintovar’s smirk grew. “But.”

  Risebelle’s jaw tightened. “…But?”

  Kintovar looked at Roselle, then back to Risebelle.

  “You think I’d really activate this without safeguards?”

  Kintovar stretched her arms over her head and let out a short sigh. “Look, I already know about Magical Ruptures. They can be annoying to deal with, sure. But only if a scientist goes in blind.”

  Risebelle’s glare deepened. “And you’re saying you’re not going in blind?”

  Kintovar grinned. “Do I look like an amateur?”

  Haras cheerfully raised a hand. “Oh! Should I answer that—?”

  “No,” Risebelle and Kintovar said in unison.

  Kintovar turned back to Roselle. “Listen, Roselle. My tech operates using Memory Data.”

  Roselle blinked. “Memory Data…?”

  Kintovar nodded. “The flashes of the past you’ve been getting. Every time you sleep, every time you zone out—those aren’t just random visions. That’s data, collected and stored within you.”

  Roselle’s eyes widened. “Wait… that’s why I’ve been seeing all those memories? Even the ones I don’t recognize?”

  “Exactly.” Kintovar tapped the bunny-like pin on Roselle’s chest. “This device is going to interact with your Memory Data to stabilize the transformation. We just need to check the percentage and fine-tune it accordingly.”

  Haras bounced slightly in place. “Ohhh! So you’re basically making sure Roselle doesn’t explode into a million tiny pieces?”

  Roselle visibly paled. “Wait, that was a possibility?!”

  Kintovar groaned. “Haras, shut up.”

  Risebelle’s eyes lowered even further. “I hate everything about this conversation.”

  Kintovar ignored them both and pulled up a holographic interface from her wrist device. She flicked through a series of graphs and data streams before settling on one in particular.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  “Alright,” she murmured. “Let’s see where you’re at, Roselle.”

  [SYSTEM STATUS: ROSELLE]

  Lifeforce: 50%

  Magic: 10% (Note: Tech Amulet Boosting Recovery Rate)

  Project Mage Data Collection: 15% (Low Data. Form Stability Limited.)

  Estimated Form Duration: 10 Minutes (Warning: High Risk of Magical Rupture Beyond Time Limit.)

  Kintovar’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Hmph. Not much to work with.”

  Haras whistled. “Oof. Yeah, that’s not great. It’s like trying to build a fortress with, like, three bricks and a dream.”

  Risebelle leaned in and scanned the numbers. “So… ten minutes?”

  Kintovar nodded. “Give or take. Any longer, and you’re looking at another Magical Rupture.”

  Roselle swallowed. The last time had nearly torn her apart from the inside.

  Risebelle frowned. “This is reckless.”

  Kintovar adjusted the bunny-like pin with nimble fingers. “Yeah, well, welcome to our entire existence.” She turned back to Roselle. “You have one shot. Use it wisely.”

  Roselle’s fingers curled into a small fist. “I won’t let you guys down!”

  Risebelle kept her eyes on Kintovar. “Alright, but what about me?”

  Kintovar barely glanced up from fine-tuning the pin. “What about you?”

  Risebelle pointed at the bunny-like device. “If Roselle gets one, shouldn’t I? I mean, I hate the design, but still—I should have more data to work with. I’m the older sister.”

  Kintovar suddenly became very interested in adjusting her sunglasses. “…Weeeell.”

  Risebelle’s brow twitched. “Well what?”

  Kintovar coughed. “There was only one.”

  Risebelle took a slow, deep breath. “You. Had. One. Prototype. And you gave it to Roselle instead of me?!”

  Kintovar held up a hand. “Easy, easy! I’ll make another one. Just—y’know, later.”

  Risebelle looked like she was about to strangle her. “Later? When, exactly? After I’m dead?!”

  Kintovar laughed weakly. “Oh, now that would be utterly preposterous! You’re not gonna die anytime soon.”

  Risebelle’s eyes lowered. “I’m sure the guy with the purple aura has something to say about that.”

  Kintovar sighed and put a hand on her hip. “Risebelle, have you ever actually undergone a transformation for Project Zab?”

  Risebelle opened her mouth, then hesitated. “…Well, no. I haven’t transformed the way Roselle has before, but even so—”

  Kintovar grinned. “Exactly. That’s why yours comes last. Your transformation will be a surprise… for all of us.”

  Haras wiggled her fingers. “Ooooh, mystery!”

  Risebelle didn’t look thrilled. “I hate that.”

  Kintovar patted her on the shoulder. “Then you’re gonna really hate waiting. For now, Roselle’s gonna have to handle Mystimona alone. Until I finish your device, you’re on standby.”

  Haras patted Risebelle’s shoulder from the other side. “Hey, think of it this way! You get to watch first! Like a live-action experiment!”

  Risebelle took a step back. She then jabbed a finger toward Kintovar and Haras.

  “For the next ten minutes,” she declared, “you two aren’t gonna be the ones who created me.”

  Kintovar froze. Haras blinked.

  Then—

  “NOOOOOOO!”

  Both scientists dropped to their knees.

  Kintovar clutched her chest like she had been stabbed. “Risebelle, please! We raised you! We fed you!”

  Haras sobbed into her hands. “We gave you clothes! We let you have a room! A whole room!”

  Risebelle’s brow twitched. “The bed is small.”

  Kintovar grabbed Haras by the collar and shook her. “WE FORGOT TO GIVE HER A BED FIT FOR A QUEEN.”

  Haras gasped. “WERE BAD PARENTS?!”

  Risebelle massaged her temples. “This is exactly why I’m pretending I don’t know you for the next ten minutes.”

  Kintovar collapsed onto the floor. “We lost her, Haras.”

  Haras sniffled. “She’s gone forever….”

  Roselle watched the entire exchange in awe. “…Do you guys do this every time?”

  Risebelle, already ten steps away shouted over her shoulder, “YES.”

  A sharp beep rang out from Kintovar’s wrist device. The sudden noise cut through the ridiculous display of despair unfolding on the floor.

  Kintovar snapped up and was instantly composed. “Alright, that’s five minutes. Time to move, people.”

  Haras, just seconds ago a sobbing mess straightened up and adjusted her pink lab coat. “Mhm. Agreed.”

  Roselle blinked. One moment, they were flailing around like they’d been cast out of their own family. The next? Absolute professionals.

  Haras glanced at Kintovar. “Now that we have a game plan, we can swing into action.”

  Kintovar nodded

  Risebelle ran a hand through her hair before following. “Took you guys long enough to switch gears.”

  Roselle, meanwhile, took a moment to process what had just happened. ‘Are they… serious right now?’

  But then she shrugged and smiled. Maybe she didn’t fully understand them, but that was fine.

  Mystimona sat in the sand calmly in a meditative position. The headmaster stood behind him.

  The Headmaster’s molten-silver eyes held a barely contained fury. “Mystimona,” she seethed, “you let them have five minutes.”

  Mystimona remained seated in the sand. “Indeed.”

  The Headmaster’s nails dug into the fabric of her robes. “You don’t understand. Five minutes is more than enough time for a scientist to tip the scales. Technology isn’t some toy. It’s an infection, and you just gave them time to let it spread.”

  Mystimona finally opened his glowing purple eyes. “Perhaps that is why I am intrigued,” he admitted. “In my time, Mages despised technology. They would rather carve spells into stone with their own blood than so much as touch an artifact of science.” He chuckled. “I never quite understood why.”

  The Headmaster’s jaw clenched. “Because magic is superior.”

  Mystimona smiled. “Is it?”

  The Headmaster glared

  Mystimona rested his hands on his knees. “Magic can shape the world, yes. Technology was never close back then and yet, mages feared it—still fear it. Why?” He raised a brow. “Afraid of competition?”

  The Headmaster took a sharp breath. “That’s—”

  She hesitated to finish her sentence.

  Mystimona’s smile widened. “Ah. So I was right. You’re lucky I find humor in your beaten-down state.” His glowing purple gaze bore into her. “Otherwise, I would have crushed you long ago.”

  A flicker of unease crossed the Headmaster’s worn face. She quickly schooled her look and spoke with the slightest waver. “There’s no need for that.”

  Mystimona chuckled. “Good. I’d rather be entertained than waste my energy.”

  Before the Headmaster could respond, the sound of footsteps broke through the tension.

  Kintovar and the others had returned.

  Roselle stepped forward. She met Mystimona’s glowing purple eyes. “I’ll be fighting you first.”

  Mystimona slowly got to his. He gave Roselle a curious look. “Why not all at once?”

  Kintovar placed her hands on her hips. “Tsk. Do we look stupid?”

  Mystimona chuckled. “Hm. No, but I do wonder—” He tilted his head. “Is this bravery? Or foolishness?”

  Roselle stood firm. “We’ll see.”

  "Before this begins," Kintovar started, "let’s get something straight, Headmaster. You scoff at technology, mock it like it's some cheap imitation of magic. But tell me—why do you think mages like you fear it so much?"

  The Headmaster’s molten-silver eyes narrowed, but she didn’t respond.

  Kintovar took that as an invitation to continue. "It’s simple. Because technology isn’t just another tool. It’s progress. It’s innovation. It’s advancement to a level that magic alone can’t achieve.” She gestured to Roselle. “And what you’re about to witness isn’t just another display of power. It’s the true might of technology.”

  The Headmaster’s jaw clenched.

  Kintovar didn’t stop. "Technology solves problems that magic alone can’t fix. It doesn’t replace magic—it enhances it. Improves it. And unlike magic, which has been spinning in a circle for centuries—technology never. Stops. Evolving.”

  She pushed her sunglasses up with a confident flick. "So before you keep running your mouth about how magic is ‘superior,’ Headmaster, maybe you should stop and watch. Because Roselle here? She’s about to prove just how outdated your way of thinking really is."

  Roselle took a deep breath, steadying herself. Her fingers twitched, anticipation crawling up her spine. This was it.

  She shouted in her mind:

  "System, Initiate Project Mage."

  A familiar chime echoed in her head, and then a message displayed infront of her:

  [System Warning]

  PROJECT MAGE INITIATION DETECTED.

  RISK LEVEL: HIGH.

  MAGICAL RUPTURE POSSIBILITY: 78%.

  PROCEED?

  At least it wasn’t an Access Denied like last time. ‘Hehe…That would have been embarrassing…’

  "Yes."

  A blinding surge of energy erupted from Roselle. The air thickened with an electric tension that made even Mystimona raise an intrigued brow.

  Roselle’s childlike body stretched to that of a teenager. A short purple jacket formed over her torso. A deep purple skirt billowed beneath her. Earrings shaped like purple lightning bolts appeared on her ears.

  Her massive cannon condensed into a sleekerr form and pulsed with purple lightning.

  A blade, black as void was in her other hand, and it glowed with corrosive purple acid in the middle.

  And atop her head, a black and purple hat formed. She smirked confidently from her transformed self.

  [[System Message]]

  Lifeforce: 200%

  Magic Level: 300%

  Transformation Timer: 10 minutes before Magical Rupture (Stage 1)

  Mystimona’s towering figure now faced a transformed Roselle “Oh? Now

  THIS… this is interesting.”