Chapter 2

Kagami has a truly delightful expression on her face. It’s filled to the brim with defiance. Which means that she’s finally applied enough pressure to bring that to the surface. She roars in protest against what has already happened as though it will make even a shred of difference. Self-assuredly, Tsumugi taps her glasses again, activating the Magitech-Dendrites. In her mind’s eye, she pictures the vague image of one of her understudies. Automatically, the dendrites release an electric signal. It travels out of the port at the back of her head into a port built into the throne she’s sitting on then upwards along the circuits built into the walls and into a mile-high transmitter. A signal is emitted, one that spans a radius of several hundred kilometers, but is only heard by those with special receivers installed into their brains. There's the familiar buzz of traffic as they relay their positions to each other and decide who's closest. Less than a second after she tapped her glasses, there’s a reply. 

"Copy that."

A pair of heavy-set sliding doors open to reveal a hulking metal titan that more closely resembles a mountain than armor. And yet, the eyes peering out of the helmet could only belong to a living being while the contours around the joints could never have been formed by nature. There should be no way that something that big and heavy can walk with that much grace, but a complex system of internal hyperdense counterweights and Magitech pistons keep it balanced and relatively agile. It is a hallmark of the Morpho-class of juggernaut armor. She should know, she helped design it.

Thunder crashes with every step the juggernaut takes and lightning flows through its veins. Pure magical energy courses through tiny crevices etched into the metal plating. It was the most efficient solution to the problem of powering the whole thing, but Tsumugi has to admit it did have the side effect of making it that much more intimidating. 

“I curse your children and your children’s children and their children after! I curse your search for your false truth! I curse your false god and all that he preaches!”

Without a thundering creak, the juggernaut wraps its arms around the box and lifts. Internal gyroscopic adjustment makes it so that the prison doesn’t tilt in the slightest as it’s heaved onto its back. Kagami does not break eye contact with Tsumugi for so much as a second. What a pointless gesture. If Tsumugi wanted to know the extent of her hatred for her, then all she has to do is tap her glasses, no need for all this redundant nonsense. 

The curses continue all the way until the doors shut. Tsumugi has to admit, she’s used to mocking and being jeered at, but this curse business feels much more personal. She doesn’t feel like she’s actually been cursed, but that felt like real vitriol. Well, of course it’s real vitriol, she just ordered the execution of her wife. Logically, for murder to be excused is inherently something of an irregularity, even if it is for the pursuit of a larger end goal. Perhaps an apology letter is in order. She isn’t sure she’d be able to continue her research smoothly with all this guilt weighing on her. 

Dearest, Kagami Kentomi

I’m sorry that I killed your wife. 

With love, Tsumugi. 

That’s callous, even for her. She crumples up the thought and throws it away. Then what is she to do with all this guilt? She could have it suppressed. A little bit of improvised psychosurgery never hurt anyone but it still feels wrong, somehow. Hmmmm, she’ll have to think about this a bit more. She puts out another signal. 

“Disengaging, someone take my place.”

“Affirmative.”

Another juggernaut enters the room. In contrast to the smooth contours of the last one, this one is much more angular, much more knight-like, a Lycaenid-Class. It shambles in, hissing and creaking. A large hammer that dwarfs even its wielder is attached to its back. 

The Lycaenid takes its ponderous time climbing up the steps to the core. Once it reaches the top, it pauses to bow down to the seated Tsumugi. The ambient light glowing off of the Magitech-Dendrites that line every nook and cranny of the building casts them both in a morbid light. Silently, it walks behind Tsumugi’s throne and unplugs the Magitech-Dendrites connecting her to the chair. The sensation is comparable to peeling off a fresh scab. Painful, but also guiltily pleasant. And of course, there is the relief of having her brain all to herself.  Tsumugi cranes her now free neck around while massaging the port attached to her nape.

“Thank you.”

She stands up from the chair while the Lycaenid removes its weapon from its back, places it on the ground, and doffs its armor. There’s a series of hissing and clangs as the armor segments itself, creating an opening in its back. A girl, covered in sweat, emerges out of the metal cocoon. She must be about nineteen or eighteen, one or two years younger than Tsumugi herself. 

“Lycaenid.”

She addresses the girl. She lifts her head slowly like she's still being weighed down by the suit. Tsumugi gestures at her warhammer standing at the foot of the throne. 

“Why is it you’re carrying your weapon around? Do you perhaps see an enemy?”

“I have not yet mastered the art of dematerialization, ma’am.”

“If not now then when? Take initiative and start learning today. I have written a short briefing regarding the basics, I suggest that you give it a once-over.”

“I have already gone over the literature, ma’am.”

“Clearly not thoroughly enough. Read it again and take care to internalize the information this time.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

There was no real need for any of that, Tsumugi just likes to lord her authority over her subjects. It’s a guilty pleasure of hers. It’s one of the few pleasures she can get outside of her research. Though, she does feel a little bad about it so she helps the girl connect her spinal cord port to the throne port. 

"Have you received training on core protocol?"

"Yes, ma'am."

“Have you ever been a core before?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Then take a deep breath.”

She gets in a sucking breath as Tsumugi holds the Magitech-Dendrites to her nape port. The tendrils flounder for a moment, calibrating their angle before surging forward. The opening resists at first but quickly gives way with a squelch, like a drain being unclogged. Tsumugi hears the vague remnants of a scream the girl managed to keep in her throat. It's understandable, the sensation of the dendrites fusing with the spinal cord has a tendency to inflict a pain that is both intense and does not recede easily. 

"How is it?"

"Taxing, ma'am."

Taxing indeed. The amount of data this Campus has to receive, process and store in a second is ten times that of the world's second strongest supercomputer. If the flow of data is to be compared to a flowing river, then her job is to change its course with her every thought. While she manages its shape, the hundred thousand Papilio manage the individual drops of water. For the most part, the process is automatic, the grooves in the land already being well-worn and well-traveled that the river simply follows the path of least resistance, it just needs something that remembers these paths, hence the need for a human brain. 

"I will return in twenty minutes."

Tsumugi claps the girl on the shoulder before taking her leave, the double doors hissing shut behind her. But no sooner is she out the door when a dull, droning noise begins to resonate through the hallway. The alarm. She’s frozen for a moment, her face frozen halfway between delight and horror. Something other than the blaring of the alarm reaches her ears. Laughter. Only a distant hallucination, an unfortunate byproduct of fusing with the core for an extended amount of time but it sounds like both fate and the vice president are laughing at her foolishness.

The very notion that she’s been outsmarted snaps her out of her shock. Not yet, this isn’t over yet. She reaches for her glasses to send out a signal but remembers she isn’t connected anymore. With a vicious heel-turn, she barges back into the core room and stomps back up to the throne, in which a very confused looking girl sits.

“Excuse me.”

Without even a hint of hesitation, she rips out the Magitech-Dendrites from her nape. It’s harmless, if excruciatingly painful. The girl immediately collapses onto the ground, screaming but Tsumugi is deaf to anything but the urgency of the alarm. She sits down on the throne and plugs herself into the system. Her nervous system barely even registers the pain. This is nothing compared to the shame she’ll have to endure should the unimaginable come to pass.

“All units. Converge on the Vice President’s position. Kill on sight.”

Her thoughts ripple throughout the Campus in the form of a broad-frequency signal. Somewhere, an army with veins of lightning begins to mobilize. And everywhere, a symphony of footsteps like thunder.