Half a world away, deep beneath the polished marble and steel corridors of a military research campus in Chiba, the air was clean, precise… and utterly deceived.
Because even in Japan—the stronghold of magical authority, bastion of elite discipline and centuries-old bloodlines—the shadows weren't theirs alone.
Operatives from the Imperial Federal Republic of the Philippines were already inside.
They moved through ventilation shafts, data conduits, and service tunnels under the cover of low-grade cloaking fields and industrial-grade administrative clearances. Their insignias were false—tailored to mimic obscure units within the JSDF or the USNA forward detachments, depending on who they passed by.
One agent stood silently in the dark just outside a restricted mana-control wing. His uniform bore the patch of a long-retired logistical unit. His iris glow was faint—barely visible to normal cameras—but burned bright across his neural link.
"Confirming asset: codename 'Silver Fang.' Primary target resides in Facility B-07. Shiba Tatsuya's files are partitioned across multiple JSDF vaults. Extracting echoes now."
Another agent was embedded within the campus cleaning crew, pushing a cart of supplies through the outer lobby. His badge pinged as civilian, but his gloved fingers tapped rapid sequences on the side of a handheld "scanner" that was quietly drawing fragments of CAD schematics, ritual deployment algorithms, and Yotsuba-aligned signal encryptions from the surrounding tech grid.
"USNA and JSDF security protocols overlapping. They're hiding something deeper than Shiba's data. Maybe more strategic-class infrastructure."
A third agent, parked casually in a delivery truck near the west entrance, looked up at the overhead display where footage from the Imperial Duel SEA Qualifiers was cycling.
He saw it again.
Sallie Mae Salcedo deflecting suppression magic, switching to shotgun mid-slide, absorbing and redirecting enemy spells with borrowed tech.
He smirked, muttering under his breath.
"Yeah… he does fight like the Ice Demon."
In a dim underground data vault, their commander—Agent Lucian Draven, a high-ranking spymaster embedded as a cultural attaché in Kyoto—received all the data in real-time. His screen split in four—satellite map, CAD signature logs, AI-modeled duel replay footage, and JSDF strategic deployment charts.
He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands.
"Japan thinks they're still the center of the magical world…"
He tapped the side of his tablet and brought up the Salcedo siblings' profile. A live notification pinged: "SEA Games Delegation Confirmed – Fourth High."
"But we're already inside their walls."
He looked at the last file—marked SHIBA, TATSUYA — RESTRICTED.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, the screen went dark—and the operation continued.
Inside the heart of Facility B-07, beneath layers of JSDF and USNA surveillance grids, the Philippine infiltration unit moved like phantoms.
Thermal signatures masked. Footsteps absorbed by mana-quieted boots. Even the light bent around them—low-tier cloaking spells cast not for glamour, but for pure practicality.
They had no need to touch terminals, no reason to breach. Not yet.
They were here to listen.
And just ahead—inside a secure meeting chamber layered with illusion wards and anti-recording fields—they heard everything.
From the ventilation shaft above, one agent slowly lowered a directional listening array, catching the voices of two men in mid-conversation.
"—Yokohama isn't equipped for that many ships. Not without Imperial permission."
The voice belonged to a USNA officer—decorated, calm, sharp-edged. He wore the Stars insignia on his shoulder, though stripped of rank for diplomacy.
"The IFRP doesn't care about permission," said the other voice—Japanese, colder. "Gabriella Aurelia Mendez opened an Imperial Gate in the middle of a school arena. That wasn't just spectacle. That was a message."
A pause.
"You think they're moving the fleet?"
"I know they are. Not just patrols—carriers. Assault transports. Amphibious escort groups. All of it. As early as tomorrow afternoon, they want full satellite blind zones over the Yokohama arc."
From the shadows, the Philippine agents exchanged glances.
Mass fleet movement confirmed. Yokohama. Afternoon. Gabriella's Gate was the signal.
The USNA officer sounded uneasy now. "But they're still using students as the face. Duelists."
"That's how the Empire works now. Proxy wars through talent. National duels instead of direct conflict. But don't let the pageantry fool you."
The Japanese officer's voice dropped low.
"They're testing the water. And that slacker kid—what's his name—Salcedo? Gabriella's watching him like he's a weapon."
The USNA officer scoffed, unaware of just how wrong he was.
"He's just a lazy prodigy. You really think he's worth scouting?"
"I don't. But Gabriella does. And if she does…"
"What about coastal defenses?" the USNA officer asked, voice edged with tension. "If they're serious about staging at Yokohama, your arc-shield grid better hold."
The Japanese officer scoffed lightly. "Our arc-shield grid always holds. Reinforced ever since the Scorched Dome drills. But if the IFRP brings an Imperial-class fleet that close to Tokyo Bay, we're not just talking border protocol. We're talking about countermeasure systems not even on the books."
"They're moving under diplomatic flags. You won't get authorization to intercept."
"Not unless it's Gabriella herself who steps foot on the mainland," the Japanese officer replied. "And that's what concerns us."
A silence passed between them.
Then the USNA officer said quietly:
"You think she's a Strategic-class magician?"
The Japanese man didn't answer right away.
Then—
"We've never confirmed it. No footage, no deployment records. But there are whispers—about what happened in the Philippine Sea last year. The blackout over the Palawan Channel. No survivors, no sensors."
"You're saying she did that?"
"I'm saying no one else could've."
Another pause. This one longer. Heavier.
"She opened an Imperial Gate mid-duel. That wasn't projection tech. That was reality manipulation."
"Then we assume worst-case scenario," the USNA officer said. "We mark her as Strategic until proven otherwise. Which means if she's involved in Yokohama, we do not provoke."
"Not unless we want a crater where the bay used to be."
The room went quiet again, the implication hanging thick in the air.
Above, the Philippine agents remained still. Not one breath wasted. Not one word spoken.
But in their minds, the facts were aligning fast:
Gabriella Aurelia Mendez was considered a Strategic-class threat.
The whispers of the foreign conversation faded behind them as the Philippine infiltration team moved deeper into the bowels of Facility B-07—their pace smooth, silent, methodical. The corridors beyond the surveillance wings were colder, older—lit only by dim security strips pulsing along the floor.
No alarms. No voices.
Just the faint hum of shielded data servers and the clicking of spell-sealed door locks echoing in the dark.
Agent Kara, the lead operative, signaled with two fingers. The team shifted formation, slipping between shadows cast by server racks and reinforced bulkheads.
They approached a split hallway—one leading to the primary JSDF command hall, the other to the classified tactical records archive, marked only by a dead-end steel wall.
Just as the Philippine infiltration team approached the final threshold—the last sealed chamber beyond the archive hall—a soft voice echoed from within.
Female. Japanese. Clear, confident, and unmistakably familiar to those who studied foreign magic circles.
The team froze mid-step.
Agent Kara silently raised her hand, signaling a full stop.
Another operative—a technician—immediately deployed a palm-sized, mana-synced eavesdropping charm with live translation overlays. They pressed it against the cold metal wall. Glyphs activated, pulsing in faint green as the enchantment latched onto vibrations through the reinforced steel.
At first—muffled tones. Then, clarity:
"I'm telling you, Mari," came the sharp voice of Mayumi Saegusa, High Noble of the Ten Master Clans. "Yokohama isn't ready. Not for what they're planning."
Another voice responded—calmer, edged with military precision.
"We already moved auxiliary shields into position. JSDF fleet intel confirms the IFRP is organizing a fleet under Gabriella Mendez. But so far, no hostile action—only political presence."
Mari Watanabe. Former student council member of First High. Now JSDF tactical officer. The same woman who had sparred with magicians from the west and held her ground.
The listening device flickered, translating in real-time.
"They'll call it observation," Mayumi said. "But that gate she opened wasn't symbolism. That was a power statement. A flex. And we don't even know what class she really is."
Mari replied, low and serious.
"She's unpredictable. That's the threat. We've always known what to expect from the Yotsuba. From Shiba. Even from the Stars."
"But the Philippines? Mendez? This entire Imperial structure—they're rewriting how power works."
"And if they're sending duelists to the Games…" Mayumi trailed off.
Mari finished the sentence for her.
"They're testing battlefield magicians in public. Soft deployment. No risk. Full exposure."
"Exactly what we'd do, if we were them," Mayumi added.
The Philippine spies exchanged glances in the dark. Their expressions hidden, but the tension in the air was unmistakable.
Japan knew more than they let on.
And they were watching Gabriella closely.
But most importantly—
They still had no idea about the true wildcard waiting behind her.
The charm pulsed again.
"We need to prepare," Mayumi said. "The Games aren't just sport anymore."
"They're a battlefield," Mari answered. "And someone in the Empire is training their champions like they expect war."
Inside the steel-walled chamber, the conversation between Mari Watanabe and Mayumi Saegusa continued—subtle, sharp, and dangerous in its implications. The Philippine spies remained motionless beyond the threshold, their eavesdropping charm translating every syllable with flawless precision.
"And what about him?" Mayumi asked, her voice lowering. "Have you heard anything from the Yotsuba directly?"
Mari hesitated. The silence between them said enough.
"They've gone quiet," she finally answered. "No statements. No movement. No sightings in public facilities. Tatsuya hasn't been seen since the Sado Island operation four months ago."
"So he's off the grid."
"He's always off the grid," Mari said flatly. "But this feels deliberate. Like they're holding him in reserve."
Mayumi sighed softly. There was tension beneath her usually teasing tone now. A rare thing.
"We used to know how to predict him. Now? We're left watching gates open across the sea, wondering who the Empire's going to send next."
"You think Gabriella's maneuver is a warning to him?"
Mari paused. "Maybe. Or maybe it's bait."
That made Mayumi go quiet for a moment.
"You think they're hoping to draw him out?"
"I think," Mari said slowly, "that if the Philippines wants to stake their flag with a Strategic magician like Gabriella at the helm, then there's only one counterweight Japan can put on the board."
"Tatsuya?"
"Exactly."
Mayumi's voice lowered again—uncertain, a rare thing from her.
"But if they force him to fight, he won't stop."
Mari's reply came cold.
"Neither will Gabriella."
The corridor beyond the sealed office fell into a sudden, charged silence—then snapped like a tripwire.
One of the JSDF perimeter officers, patrolling with a low-tier mana detector, froze as a flicker crossed his HUD. A heat signature—foreign—where there should've been none. He turned, eyes widening.
"Intruder—!"
But he never finished the call.
A burst of suppressed gunfire echoed from the shadows. Three rounds, rapid, tight grouping. The officer dropped before he hit the floor.
But it was already too late.
The other patrol unit rounded the corner, saw the downed man—and the silhouettes in the dark.
"CONTACT!"
Alarms flared immediately.
ALERT: SECURITY BREACH—TACTICAL SECTOR B-07—ARM ALL UNITS—REPEAT: LIVE FIRE—
Red warning lights bathed the steel corridors. Defense glyphs spun to life above doorways. Sirens screamed through every floor.
The Philippine agents knew what this meant—they'd been seen.
And they didn't flinch.
Agent Kara gave a single nod, her voice calm over the encrypted comms:
"No more shadows. Go loud."
The three-member team drew sleek, mana-enhanced rifles—etched with tactical runes. No logos. No flags. Pure black, with suppressors glowing faint blue from overheat syncs.
They opened fire.
Two more JSDF guards fell in the corridor, their shields breaking under precise three-shot bursts. Mana sparks and muzzle flash lit the narrow passage as the IFRP team moved with brutal efficiency, sweeping the hallway with military formation discipline.
Inside the office, Mari Watanabe snapped to her feet.
"Gunfire."
Mayumi immediately pulled a small wand from her belt, her expression sharp. "That's not training ordinance."
The wall console flared—broadcasting an internal feed. Red lights flashing. Troop movements. Alerts stacking.
"They breached Strategic Archive levels."
Mari's face darkened. "Then they know."
"But who—?" Mayumi started.
"Doesn't matter."
Mari kicked open the door and rushed out, her CAD already shifting around her wrist like a spiraling band of light.
Down the hall, the IFRP team ducked behind a reinforced pillar as a wave of JSDF counter-units arrived—dozens of soldiers, shields raised, suppressive spells charging in their palms.
Agent Kara checked her ammo. Calm. Focused.
"They're bringing in heavies."
One of the agents growled, "They weren't supposed to find us until after extraction."
Kara narrowed her eyes and raised her rifle.
"Doesn't matter. We already got what we came for. Now we get out."
Gunfire erupted again—an all-out exchange echoing through the facility, lighting up hallways like a warzone.
Boots thundered against polished steel. Mana seals flickered overhead. The Philippine infiltration team was already executing their retreat the moment the breach alarm sounded.
Agent Kara and her squad weaved through the automated blast doors just before they slammed shut. Their cloaking glyphs flickered, weakened by overuse, but still held long enough to break line of sight.
"Extraction path Gamma confirmed. Five minutes to lift zone. Move!"
She tapped her earpiece, voice firm and precise despite the chaos.
"This is Kara to IFRP Command—confirming successful infiltration of JSDF Strategic Archive. Data secure. Hostile response active. Preparing for emergency exfil."
A brief burst of static—then the reply, clean and commanding.
"Confirmed, Kara. Directive Aegis-Red engaged. Imperial Palace has authorized field extraction. Priority status: Full strategic clearance."
"Understood," Kara snapped. "Sending key intel burst now. Begin phase two protocol."
Behind them, steel shrieked open—and the sealed door to the strategic command office slammed outward.
Mari Watanabe emerged first, Grimoire-style CAD forming like spiraling ribbons around her wrist, eyes locked on the fleeing figures.
Just behind her, Mayumi Saegusa raised her specialized baton CAD—already glowing with pressure-reading vectors.
"There! They're running—Sector E corridor!"
"Don't let them escape!" Mari barked.
Mayumi's CAD fired instantly—a distortion burst slammed into the corridor wall just behind the retreating spies, nearly staggering one, but they dove through the nearest service tunnel without pause.
Kara spun as she ran, pointed her rifle backward, and squeezed off a burst of mana-enhanced suppressive rounds. The shots slammed into the floor near Mari's boots—forcing her to cast a wide-angle shield to deflect debris.
"They're trained," Mayumi hissed, giving chase.
"No," Mari growled. "They're Imperial."
Down the tunnel, Agent Kara activated her comms again:
"Team One to extraction—enemy mages in pursuit. Tactical elites. Likely JSDF officers. You have 90 seconds."
"Extraction team standing by," came the calm voice from the encrypted line. "We see you. Drone cloaking deployed."
Above the outer walls of the facility, a camouflaged stealth craft hovered in a no-fly zone, engines barely humming, its side hatch open and mana dampeners fully engaged.
Kara gave one last order:
"Prepare to break the sky."
Her squad moved as one—turning a covert mission into a battlefield retreat with surgical execution.
And behind them, two of Japan's finest were racing to catch up.
The corridors erupted into controlled chaos, alarm lights pulsing red with shrill sirens slicing through the air. Mayumi and Mari charged forward, their steps echoing sharply against polished floors. CADs gleamed brightly, each of their spells primed for combat.
Mari tapped her communicator rapidly, voice sharp, urgent:
"This is Watanabe Mari—Level B-07 breach. Intruders moving through Sector E towards the East wing. Multiple hostiles, heavily armed, high-level cloaking confirmed! Lock down the perimeter—now!"
A tense, crisp voice crackled back instantly from the JSDF Command Control:
"Copy, Lieutenant Watanabe—deploying tactical reinforcements to Sector E. Heavy mages inbound. ETA: one minute."
Mari narrowed her eyes as she ran faster, CAD ribbons spiraling tighter around her wrist, readying a kinetic burst.
Beside her, Mayumi kept pace, her expression cool but dangerous. Her baton CAD shone with a pressure-vector glyph, pulsing fiercely as she called into her own communicator:
"Mayumi Saegusa reporting—send backup from the north passage! Cover their extraction points! Hostiles likely have aerial support!"
The agent's response was immediate:
"Affirmative, Miss Saegusa. Deploying interception squads now. Surveillance drones launching in fifteen seconds."
They rounded a corner and glimpsed the Philippine spies just ahead, running toward an emergency maintenance exit.
"There!" Mari shouted.
Mayumi thrust her CAD forward sharply—
"Vector Snare!"
A heavy distortion pulse streaked down the corridor, slamming into the spies' rear formation, catching one operative momentarily off-balance and staggering him.
But Agent Kara pivoted instantly, raising her mana-enhanced rifle and firing a controlled burst to force Mari and Mayumi to evade into side alcoves.
"Keep moving!" Kara commanded sharply. "Sixty seconds to extraction!"
The spies surged forward, disappearing into the access tunnel as automatic doors sealed behind them.
Mari cursed under her breath, sprinting forward to reach the sealed blast door.
"Override!" she ordered, placing her palm flat against the biometric scanner. The door hissed open seconds later, revealing an empty corridor—the spies already gone, vanished into the shadowy maze ahead.
Outside, JSDF rapid-response teams converged on the eastern perimeter, mages deploying defensive spells, drones buzzing loudly above, scanning every shadow and rooftop.
High above, unseen, the IFRP stealth craft hovered silently. Cloaking shimmered gently as its hatch slid open, ropes dropping to the ground below, waiting to pull the agents to safety.
Kara transmitted quickly, calm and clear despite the urgency:
"IFRP command—extraction commencing. Prepare for immediate departure. Hostiles engaging. Mission package secured."
The reply came firmly, from the drone operator above:
"Understood. Hold position. Stand by for immediate extraction—covering fire authorized if needed."
Below, Mari and Mayumi stood tense, CADs blazing, scanning for any sign of their targets.
"They're not escaping," Mari said, voice cold. "Not tonight."
But as the shadows deepened, the spies moved like ghosts—fast, disciplined, and deadly—already fading into the waiting darkness.
The Philippine spies burst through the final maintenance access hatch—boots skidding against steel as they emerged into the open-air landing pad concealed atop the secondary annex of the JSDF facility.
Above, the sleek stealth extraction craft hovered silently, its cloaking field now partially lifted, revealing angular, gunmetal plating and glowing blue intake vents. Ropes dropped from the side hatch, gently swinging in the crosswind.
Agent Kara and her team didn't stop.
"Go! Move now!"
One agent leapt for the rope immediately. Another secured the data pack in a shoulder harness, scanning for hostiles.
Then—
A surge of magical pressure.
A sudden spike in vector force struck the landing pad like a sonic snap.
BOOM.
Two figures landed in front of the spies—one from the left, the other from the right—like a pincer made of precision.
Mari Watanabe and Mayumi Saegusa.
Eyes sharp. Mana flaring.
Mari's ribbons curled like coiled blades around her arms. Mayumi's CAD baton was already aglow with dangerous intent.
> "止まりなさい!武器を捨てて!"
(Stop! Drop your weapons!)
The IFRP agents froze mid-step.
Agent Kara's rifle hovered in her hands, but she didn't raise it.
She narrowed her eyes. Her fingers tightened on the trigger.
She turned slightly toward her team and muttered, "What did she say?"
One of her subordinates blinked. "Japanese. No translation."
"Figures," Kara muttered under her breath. "They still think we speak their terms."
Mayumi took one step forward, raising her baton CAD with mana flaring at its tip.
"スパイ活動の罪で逮捕する!今すぐ降伏しなさい!"
(You are under arrest for espionage. Surrender immediately!)
Kara gave a dry, almost amused smile. "Do they seriously think we're going to surrender?"
Mari stepped beside Mayumi and barked another sharp order, pointing her CAD.
"動くな!"
(Do not move!)
The air buzzed with magical tension. Combat seconds away from breaking out.
Kara slowly lowered her rifle—only to swing it to the side and fire one shot at a signal beacon near the landing platform.
A smoke glyph detonated from the small pod, releasing a thick, mana-infused vapor across the rooftop.
"Now!"
The agents bolted toward the ropes.
"Go, go, go—!"
Mayumi reacted first, firing a vector burst into the fog, scattering it, but only catching a glimpse of the ropes swinging as one spy vanished upward.
Mari launched forward, her CAD slicing the haze with precision spells—but the second operative had already grabbed the rope, lifted halfway into the air.
Kara brought up the rear.
Before grabbing the rope, she turned back one last time—briefly locking eyes with Mari and Mayumi through the thinning smoke.
She said nothing.
She didn't need to.
Then she leapt—grabbing the last rope, swinging up as the stealth craft peeled away, engines roaring to life, cloaking re-engaging mid-ascent.
Mari stepped forward, breathing hard.
Mayumi lowered her CAD slowly, her face tight with frustration.
"They don't even understand us…"
Mari's eyes narrowed.
"They don't have to."
"They understand our weak points."
The spies were gone.
___
Back at the Salcedo residence, nestled atop a high, wind-cooled ridge overlooking the misty outskirts of San Jose, Batangas, the night was deceptively quiet. No warzones. No duels. Just Sallie Mae Salcedo leaning all the way back in his gaming chair, headset slightly crooked, legs propped up on a desk cluttered with snack wrappers and a glowing Grimoire display pad that had long since been repurposed into a second monitor.
His eyes were half-lidded. His voice? Calm. Lazy. Deadly.
"Left flank. Elemental burn trail's fresh. Wind glyphs disrupted at that corner—they're pushing two snipers top ridge."
A second later—
BLAM—BLAM.
Two enemy players dropped in the kill feed.
"Good call, Sal," his teammate muttered.
"Don't thank me. Just drop that legendary skin after the match."
It was a high-stakes wager—$2000 USD skin, only winnable through skill. No cheat mods. No resets. Just old-school sweat, strategy, and Sallie's Elemental Sight—a passive enchantment he subconsciously used in-game, reading heat trails, wind pressure, mana residuals on digital maps like it was muscle memory.
Final match. Last 1v2.
Sallie toggled voice chat.
"You ever get beaten so bad you have to uninstall your wallet?"
He flicked his wrist. His in-game CAD-weapon hybrid folded into an anti-tank railgun.
BOOM.
Final kill.
VICTORY.
He leaned back and yawned—again.
"Send the skin," he muttered. "And the receipt."
---
Across the house, Celeste, already changed into her house robe and finishing the last of dinner prep, stood at the kitchen doorway with her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised.
"Sallie. Dinner's ready."
No answer.
She stepped closer.
> "Sallie—"
"ALERT: HIGH-PRIORITY COMMUNICATION INCOMING."
The house's central ward lights flashed red—then pulsed.
The TV in the living room, previously blank, now lit up with the Imperial Seal of the IFRP.
Sallie paused, slowly pulling off his headset. "Oh... crap."
Celeste's voice dropped into her usual deadpan.
"Get dressed."
A synthesized voice echoed through the room:
"By order of Command Authority: You are summoned for immediate secure communication. Present yourselves in proper uniform attire. Stand by for live transmission."
Sallie stared at the screen. "They couldn't have waited five minutes?"
Celeste was already turning away, heading to the hall. "You're a national duelist now."
"Right, right…" He stood, stretching. "No respect for post-match cooldowns anymore."
He grabbed his Fourth High blazer from the coat rack—creased and mostly untouched.
---
The Salcedo living room was now bathed in the golden glow of a full-frame Imperial transmission seal, cast from the embedded holo-projector woven into the base of the old family TV stand. The walls hummed faintly from mana feedback—proof that this wasn't just a call.
It was a summoning.
Now dressed in their crisp Fourth High uniforms, the Salcedo siblings stood at attention in the center of the room—Sallie only slightly slouching until Celeste elbowed him with silent precision. He sighed, straightened his coat, and dropped to one knee beside her as the transmission fully stabilized.
The screen cleared.
And then—
House Salcedo appeared.
Arrayed in formal projection across the wide holographic interface, seated like a digital tribunal behind polished obsidian tables were the elders and bloodline representatives of the Salcedo family—one of the oldest arcane clans still integrated in the IFRP's inner military caste.
At the center was a stern man in his late 50s, broad-shouldered, clad in a traditional imperial barong laced with silver ward-glyphs. His presence was commanding even through a projection.
Lord Enrico Salcedo.
Patriarch.
Former Division Commander.
To his right sat General Liana Salcedo, their mother, with sharp eyes and iron posture. Late 40s, still armored in her mana-tactical uniform. Not a smile in sight—but pride clear in her silence.
To Enrico's left was Dr. Ignatius Salcedo, late 40s, robe-draped over his tailored research suit, head archivist of the Imperial Academy's War Codex Bureau.
Further off to the side were uncles and aunts—commanders, strategists, teachers. Ranks and records stretching across the projection like military pedigree incarnate.
The call was live.
The room was silent.
Then the voice of the Patriarch filled it.
"Celeste Marie. Sallie Mae."
The two siblings bowed lower.
"Rise."
They did.
Lord Enrico leaned forward slightly, voice gravel-worn but steady.
"The Salcedo name has not stood at the front of an Imperial delegation since the Third Founding Campaign. Today, that changes." He paused.
"You have succeeded where others failed. You have bested the USNA-trained. You have torn through every ranked class within Fourth High. And you have done so—not with shields behind your back, but with your names alone."
Their mother finally spoke, her voice cool and sharp.
"You are not just students anymore. You are Duelists of the Empire."
Ignatius smiled faintly. "And you've done it without formal council training. Without rank. Without restriction."
He looked directly at Sallie.
"Even if you prefer matches with snack breaks."
Sallie blinked, slightly startled. "…Someone's spying on me."
Celeste coughed lightly into her fist.
Enrico raised a hand. "That will be addressed. Later."
Then, in a softer tone, the Patriarch's voice shifted.
"You've made us proud. Your father, your mother, your entire bloodline. But more than that—"
He met their eyes through the glow.
"—you've caught the attention of forces beyond this house. You've both made headlines across the entire Imperial Duel Network."
His voice dropped, deliberate. "And in doing so… you've caught the attention of someone far above us all."
Sallie blinked. "…Wait. You mean—?"
Enrico nodded solemnly. "The Daughter of the Empire herself—Gabriella Aurelia Mendez—has requested your presence for an audience. Personally."
Celeste's eyes widened slightly, a rare flicker of surprise cutting through her usual stillness. She quickly recomposed herself, but the glint in her eyes couldn't hide the spark of curiosity.
Sallie tilted his head, looking to the side. "Gabriella... the one with the glowing gate thing? That Gabriella?"
Their mother, General Liana, interjected smoothly.
"Not a gate. The Imperial Gate. Opened mid-duel. Controlled without incantation."
"A Strategic-class figure by all estimates. And she's chosen you."
Sallie's expression shifted from casual confusion to quiet realization. "Wait... she's the one who was watching us in the finals, right?"
Celeste nodded slowly, speaking for the first time since the call began.
"She was observing. Not just spectating."
Ignatius chuckled faintly. "Sharp as ever, Celeste. She wasn't just watching the duel… she was measuring your potential against something far larger."
Enrico leaned in, voice dropping further.
"And the Emperor himself, upon review of the footage and Gabriella's direct report… has authorized a formal summons."
The room went silent again, charged with meaning.
"You are to report to Malacañang Palace, fully uniformed, for a direct meeting with Gabriella Aurelia Mendez—and potentially His Imperial Majesty."
Sallie blinked twice. "Waitwaitwait… the Emperor wants to meet us too?"
Liana's voice was calm. "You're no longer just siblings in uniform. You're national assets. You carry the Empire's weight now."
Celeste lowered her gaze briefly—processing. "Understood."
Sallie looked between all the figures on-screen, then at Celeste.
"…Do we get snacks?"
Everyone in the projection stared at him.
Even Celeste.
Enrico exhaled again—heavier this time, but slower, like the weight of the conversation was finally settling into its full measure.
"This is the only warning I will give you, boy. This path you've stepped onto... it leads into corridors where power does not tolerate slouching."
There was a long pause then Sallie's arms loosely folded over his lap, finally looked up.
"I get it. I really do. But let's not forget—I earned that corridor."
His voice, though still carrying that casual, lazy drawl, now had an edge to it. A sliver of truth beneath the easy tone.
"My sister and I beat the USNA Stars-trained duelists. Hard-fought match. They were serious, and we got more serious."
He glanced at Celeste, who gave a silent nod—confirming, not correcting.
"Then we wiped Section Two without even dipping into our full sync. They were top of their tier—until we made them look like tutorial mode."
He leaned forward just slightly.
"Section Nine? Good tactics. Strong spells. But they didn't put up a good fight. Not against us."
"So maybe, just maybe, I've earned a little slack."
The entire panel of House Salcedo stared at him—half in disbelief, half in dry respect.
It was Ignatius, the archivist, who first responded with a chuckle.
"You've got guts, boy. I'll give you that."
But Enrico was not amused. He leaned forward, voice low and firm.
"You may have earned your moment, Sallie Mae—but do not mistake performance for privilege."
"Slack is given to dogs on a leash. You are a weapon forged by blood and talent. Slack will get you melted."
General Liana, ever stone-faced, added:
"You carry our name. Our bloodline. Every ounce of pride or shame you earn on the field weighs on this house."
Then Enrico added, colder now:
"If you disobey Gabriella Aurelia Mendez… if you mock the summons of the Emperor—you will face consequences. Even your battlefield record won't shield you."
Sallie went quiet. That edge in his tone softened—just slightly. He didn't argue.
But then Enrico leaned back, folded his arms… and allowed the tone to shift.
"However… if you do obey, if you follow the course that now lies before you—whether you like it or not—House Salcedo will reward you."
Ignatius grinned. "We've had… discussions."
One of the aunts leaned forward, smirking faintly.
"Your novel manuscript—the draft you sent last year? We've quietly circulated it through our media contacts."
Another relative chimed in, smiling faintly.
"If you survive your Imperial obligations—there's interest in adapting it. A serialized visual adaptation. Or full-length feature."
Sallie blinked. "…Wait—for real?"
Enrico didn't smile, but he nodded. "For real."
Then Ignatius added:
"And should you crave challenge after the SEA Games—rather than waste your time on conquered ASEAN territories—we'll arrange opponents from a higher tier."
"We'll send you into simulations against magicians ranked highest by the Empire."
"Including one from Japan," another relative said. "They've hidden him for years. But his name is starting to resurface."
"You'll get your fight, Sallie."
Enrico finished the thought with sharp clarity.
"You'll face the best. And if you win… you'll become what this family has never seen before."
The room fell into a weighted hush after Enrico's final line.
"And if you win… you'll become what this family has never seen before."
Still kneeling, posture perfectly upright, her expression calm but with a rare flicker of pride behind her voice.
"We didn't earn this spotlight by chance."
All eyes turned toward her.
"We fought against the Stars' elite—USNA-trained operatives groomed to suppress strategic-tier magic. We fought them head-on. And we won."
She said it with neither boast nor arrogance—just fact.
"That match alone pushed our names into the stardom they feared."
She turned her eyes up to the central holoscreen, where the Imperial Seal pulsed faintly in anticipation of Gabriella's link-in.
"And that recognition was not just recorded—it was approved. By the Daughter of the Empire herself."
One of the relatives leaned in, surprised. "Gabriella personally reviewed the match?"
Celeste nodded once, precisely.
"She didn't just review it. She was there. Watching from above during the finals. Because she had already seen the quarterfinals. She followed our patterns. Our duels. And she chose to see it unfold."
"Not because of me." She paused, then turned to glance subtly at her brother. "But because of him."
Sallie looked over, blinking. "Wait—me?"
Celeste gave him a deadpan nod.
"Your multiple loadouts. Your shifting combat logic. Your CAD transforming on the fly with zero cooldowns and layered spells. Your 'slacker behavior' concealing a threat profile unlike anything in this tournament."
She turned back to the panel.
"Gabriella didn't come for the duel. She came to confirm whether or not he was real."
That hung in the air like a spell without a trigger.
Enrico rested his chin on his clasped hands, his tone low but interested now.
"So she was watching you. Measuring him."
Celeste confirmed "Analyzing. And now, preparing to act."
Ignatius leaned back, stroking his chin.
"Well then… our boy's not just a duelist. He's a living weapon system."
Liana, stoic as ever, added "If Gabriella saw that in you... you've already passed the first test."
Sallie raised his hands slightly, eyebrows raised. "Okay, I'm all for compliments—but y'all are making it sound like I'm about to get drafted into a magical black ops unit."
Enrico's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "…You may not be far off."
Sallie blinked. "...Oh."
Celeste spoke again, voice firm. "No matter what comes—this duel didn't make us stars."
"But it did confirm one thing."
She looked at the glowing seal of the Empire above them.
"We're not the ones chasing the Empire anymore because the Empire's chasing us."
A beat passed after Celeste's final line, the room still wrapped in the glow of gravitas. But, as always, Sallie broke the tension like a pin popping a mana balloon.
He straightened up slightly, cracking his neck, his tone light—but carrying just enough sincerity to show he meant every word.
"Alright, I'll say it."
He looked up at the entire House Salcedo projection, raising a hand and pointing a thumb toward himself.
"Thank you. Seriously."
Everyone watched him, waiting.
He patted the briefcase CAD resting beside him on the carpet—still locked, but humming softly with latent mana. His fingers drummed on its frame with quiet affection.
"You didn't just give me a weapon. You gave me a miracle wrapped in industrial-grade overengineering. This bad boy—this absolute god-tier war toolbox—deserves a name."
He turned it slightly in front of him with both hands like it was a sacred relic.
"I call it... Imperial Haxor."
Ignatius let out a short, surprised laugh.
"Imperial... what?"
"Imperial Haxor," Sallie repeated proudly. "This thing? It's not a CAD. It's a damn divine artifact. It's a First-Person-Shooter's dream engine merged with a battlefield god. It's got faster draw speed than high-tier familiars. Auto-adaptive loadouts. Transformations that don't even exist in regulation-grade systems."
He lifted it slightly and tapped its edge.
"Modular memory cores. Shock-sync to Grimoire pulse fields. Magic-emulation subroutines. Even mimicry functions. You built me something that thinks like me."
Then he leaned back, a little grin tugging at the edge of his mouth.
"In another country, they'd call this thing a cheat."
He looked directly at Enrico, posture half-serious now.
"So yeah—thanks. Because this thing? This Imperial Haxor—"
He held it close, voice now edged with pride.
"—is the only reason I can stand next to my sister and still keep up."
Celeste blinked, surprised. Then, without turning, replied flatly:
"You do more than keep up."
Enrico's expression remained stern, but something shifted—just slightly. Almost approval.
And then Ignatius chuckled again. "Haxor, huh. Bold name. Sounds like something ripped from a banned VRMMO."
One of the relatives added with a smirk, "Appropriate. That thing may be the closest thing this side of the hemisphere to what Japan calls…"
He trailed off.
But Enrico finished the thought, voice low and heavy.
"...The Demon of the East."
A quiet silence returned to the room.
Enrico Salcedo, the faint gleam of the imperial seal reflecting in his eyes as he watched Sallie speak with that signature blend of smug laziness and terrifying precision.
The rest of the house council remained quiet—some surprised, others simply... reassessing.
Because for the longest time, Sallie Mae Salcedo had been the outlier, the underperformer, the napper, the so-called slacker of House Salcedo.
But now?
Now, he stood clad in Fourth High's colors, with the Empire's eyes on his back, holding the very briefcase CAD that had turned him into something unrecognizable.
Not a burden, Not a disappointment, But a rising legend.
Enrico finally spoke, his tone like cold iron—but tinged with pride.
"We debated it, Sallie. You know that. There were whispers across the council. That giving you the prototype briefcase was a mistake."
Sallie just smiled lazily, already knowing what came next.
"That placing the most advanced multi-form CAD ever developed by our engineers into the hands of a boy more known for falling asleep on lecture floors than memorizing arcane theory would be a waste."
The silence hung for a beat.
Then Enrico continued—voice heavier now, but warmer.
"But we didn't make a mistake. We made the best decision House Salcedo has made in the last twenty years."
Gasps from a few younger members on the side of the projection.
Ignatius chuckled and nodded in agreement. "You didn't conform to the system, boy. You bent it. Rewired it. Just like you did with that CAD."
Liana added, arms crossed but eyes soft for the first time:
"You taught us that discipline and focus aren't the only paths to power. Sometimes... instinct wins."
Enrico folded his hands and leaned forward once more.
"That briefcase—your Imperial Haxor—was never meant for the perfect soldier. It was meant for the impossible one. And you proved that. You earned that."
Celeste glanced at her brother from the corner of her eye—just the briefest, quietest upward curve of her lips.
Sallie scratched the back of his head, suddenly feeling just a little awkward under the rare praise.
"Well... glad I didn't, you know... ruin the family crest or anything."
Enrico's voice dropped one final time.
"You carry the weight now, Sallie. Whether you slouch or not. But no matter what the Empire thinks of your posture—House Salcedo now stands behind you."
A glowing sigil flared behind them all.
The house crest glowed behind the council, flickering gently like the calm before a storm. The mood in the Salcedo living room had shifted. The weight of legacy and pride slowly gave way to something colder—something tactical.
Lord Enrico Salcedo leaned forward once more, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. The other council members straightened in unison, a signal that this part of the conversation was not for sentiment.
"Now that you both understand your position, there is... another matter."
Sallie adjusted the briefcase at his side. "Lemme guess—more duels?"
"No," General Liana cut in. "Intel. From one of our deep infiltration cells. The ones embedded within the JSDF."
Celeste's eyes narrowed. "The spies."
Enrico gave a firm nod. "Correct. They risked direct confrontation within one of Japan's highest military-grade archives. The data was encrypted in a scroll delivered less than an hour ago."
Ignatius brought up a secondary projection beside him—a shimmering holo-map of Japan, with glowing dots pulsing in key locations: Yokohama. Sado Island. Chiba.
"They found something… or rather, someone."
Sallie leaned forward, more interested now. "Who?"
The panel went quiet.
Enrico finally answered.
"A name. A ghost. The most feared duelist in Japan. A one-man black ops deterrent. Someone they refer to only by his legend: The Demon of the East."
He scratched his head, frowning. "Okay, I've heard whispers from our instructors. Staff at school shut down the topic every time it comes up. All I get is cryptic stares and words like 'suppressed record' and 'Yotsuba asset.' Who is he, really?"
Enrico shook his head.
"That is not for us to tell you. That knowledge is sealed under direct orders from the Imperial Throne. Only those sanctioned by Strategic Command and approved through Gabriella Aurelia Mendez herself are cleared to access classified Shiba data."
Sallie leaned back slowly, eyes narrowing. "…So that's a no."
General Liana's voice cut in, sharp and final "It's a hard no."
"If you want to know about Tatsuya Shiba, if you want to understand why Japan built their entire dueling hierarchy around hiding him—you'll need to ask the only person in this Empire who's seen him fight and lived to classify it."
"Gabriella Aurelia Mendez."
The room fell silent. Celeste spoke next, voice low, but steady.
"And we've caught her attention."
Enrico nodded. "Correct. Because of your victory in the qualifiers, Gabriella has summoned you. Not as students. Not as duelists. But as candidates."
Sallie raised an eyebrow. "Candidates for what?"
"That is her decision to reveal. You've proven yourselves in combat. You've drawn the gaze of both the Emperor and his daughter. Now comes the true test."
Ignatius folded his hands, a smile faintly tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Your audience has already been arranged."
A new crest appeared in the projection—a glowing Imperial Gate Seal, marked with the coordinates of Fourth High School's teleportation platform.
"Tomorrow morning, 0800. A teleportation gate will be activated at the northern plaza of Fourth High. It will be stabilized by Gabriella's personal attunement. You will step through it and arrive at Malacañang Palace."
"There, she will tell you everything about The Demon of the East. And about why she thinks you, Sallie Mae Salcedo, might just be the anomaly that changes the equation."
Sallie was quiet now. For once, no jokes. No lazy sarcasm.
He looked at the glowing gate emblem. Then at his sister.
Then at the panel. "So… this is real. No more hiding in brackets. No more slouching through qualifiers."
Celeste answered before the council could. "No more pretending to be small."
Sallie exhaled. Then, slowly, a grin returned to his face—different this time. Not smug. Not careless.
"Well then. Let's go see what this Daughter of the Empire really wants."
___
Earlier that morning, before the golden gate of teleportation activated, the sun cast a warm amber glow over the campus of Fourth High School, its white stone walls and mana-latticed windows gleaming like they knew something legendary was about to unfold.
The school building was alive—buzzing, electric, charged.
And the moment the Salcedo siblings stepped through the main path toward the teleportation hub, the entire student body exploded into motion.
It started with whispers.
"That's them—Celeste and Sallie Salcedo…"
"The ones who beat Section One. The ones who embarrassed the Stars' handpicked duelists…"
"They're going to Malacañang. They're meeting the Emperor's daughter."
Then it turned into a gathering.
By the time the siblings reached the school plaza, they were surrounded by a crowd from every section—Section Four to Nine, even some of the notoriously aloof Section One students peeking from the upper balconies. Uniforms pressed, devices held up to record, eyes wide with disbelief.
Some stared in awe.
Some in envy.
But all of them shared one thought:
They're not just students anymore.
A voice called out from the back—Angela, weaving through the crowd like a missile.
"You two—you really got summoned by Gabriella herself?!"
Sallie rubbed the back of his head. "That obvious, huh?"
Celeste, standing tall, simply nodded. "We report to the palace within the hour."
Someone else shouted, "Did you seriously get a personal gate from the palace?"
Another: "Is it true she watched your entire finals match?"
The questions came fast.
"Is she making you join the military?"
"Did she call you her chosen?"
"Are you even coming back?!"
Sallie raised both hands lazily. "Alright, alright, calm down. We're not getting drafted into magical black ops—yet. We're just answering a summons."
Celeste added calmly, "It is a formal audience. Nothing more. But make no mistake—this is recognition. For both of us."
A murmur passed through the crowd.
One student from Section Two, normally cocky, shook his head in disbelief. "You didn't just win the qualifiers... You shattered the rankings. You represent Fourth High now. Not just in the SEA Games. But to the Empire."
A girl from Section Seven added, "You caught Gabriella's attention. The Daughter of the Empire. Do you realize what that means?"
Everyone turned silent again.
The stillness was thick—like the entire student body was holding its collective breath as the Salcedo siblings stood in the center of their attention, under a sun that now felt like a spotlight.
"OH—MY—FREAKING—COSMIC-GRADE—GRIMOIRE!!"
Angela Castillo—Celeste's best friend, the blue-haired whirlwind of chaos and energy—came running full sprint from the courtyard steps, practically skidding to a stop in front of the siblings. Her short bob bounced, her tie was half undone, and she didn't even care that she'd just sprinted through a solemn moment like a literal comet.
She threw her hands in the air.
"YOU'RE MEETING THE EMPEROR'S DAUGHTER? Gabriella freakin' Mendez?!"
"Celeste! Are you kidding me right now?! This is like—this is like being knighted and adopted by a goddess in the same afternoon!!"
Celeste, startled for a moment, gave the faintest twitch of her mouth—barely perceptible to most, but to Angela, it was a whole smile.
"It's a formal summons, not divine ascension."
Angela grabbed both of Celeste's hands and started hopping on her toes.
"You're going to the capital! In full uniform! Through an Imperial Gate! People worship at those things, Celeste!"
She turned dramatically to the crowd, throwing her arms wide.
"Do you all understand what this means? My best friend is basically royalty now. Don't talk to me unless you've been invited to a palace."
"Twice. In a week."
Sallie, arms folded with his usual smirk, chuckled. "Y'know, she's not wrong. I am going to start charging people to breathe in our general direction."
Angela whirled toward him, finger wagging.
"Don't ruin this moment, slacker-sama. You may be the chaotic half of this power duo, but today is about Celeste's queen arc, okay?"
Sallie gave a faux-bow. "As Her Majesty commands."
Celeste sighed softly, but her expression warmed.
Angela leaned in closer, her voice now more personal, more real.
"Seriously though… I'm proud of you. I mean it."
Celeste met her gaze. "Thank you, Angela."
"I always knew you were on another level. Now the whole world gets to see it."
Then Angela turned to Sallie again and gave a thumbs-up.
"And you… keep breaking expectations. Just don't forget to come back. I still want my rematch in Battle Glyphs, got it?"
Sallie grinned. "No promises. I might become too powerful and retire in space."
Angela winked. "Then I'll meet you there."
As the golden light of the Imperial Gate pulsed behind them and the murmurs of the student body swelled into respectful awe, Angela stepped back, giving her best friends one last look of pure pride.
For a moment, it felt like the crowd had said everything that needed saying.
But then the crowd parted just slightly—and through the opening stepped Fuyumi Nakamura, one of the more reclusive and serious students of Section Four. Impeccably dressed, glasses resting low on her nose, arms folded, she walked with that unmistakable air of judgment Sallie knew too well.
He groaned under his breath. "Oh no. Here comes Ice Queen."
Fuyumi stopped two feet in front of him. Her tone? Dry. Her expression? As unreadable as Celeste's on a bad day.
She stared at him flatly… then said something in rapid, crisp Japanese.
"お前が帝国の注目を集めるなんて,世も末ね."
(The fact that you of all people caught the Empire's attention... it's the end of days.)
Sallie blinked. "...Huh?"
He looked over at Celeste, squinting. "Was that an insult? Felt like an insult. That was definitely an insult, right?"
Celeste, unfazed, calmly translated:
"She said... 'The fact that you caught the Empire's attention… must be a sign the world is ending.'"
Sallie tilted his head. "Yep. Insult confirmed."
Fuyumi rolled her eyes. Then she spoke again—this time, a little slower, a little colder:
"帝国の使者になる以上,もう居眠りは許されない."
(Now that you're an emissary of the Empire, you don't get to sleep through class anymore.)
Celeste smirked just slightly and translated without changing her tone:
"No more napping."
Sallie gave her a long stare. "Y'all really making this a no-sleep lifestyle, huh?"
Fuyumi didn't respond. She just stepped closer, adjusting her glasses and lowering her voice.
This time, she spoke in English—accent sharp, but clear.
"You embarrassed me during the class qualifiers. You disarmed me. Mid-cast. While yawning. I have not forgotten that."
Sallie opened his mouth.
She raised a hand.
"But—What you did to the USNA students... what you and Celeste accomplished… I respect that."
There was a pause. The smallest breath of humility from her.
"Don't die out there."
"Hey—Fuyumi!"
Sallie shrugged, stepping one foot forward.
"I'll make it up to you."
"Make what up?"
Sallie grinned, tapping the side of his briefcase.
"Y'know. For stripping your barrier mid-cast. In front of three sections. And the instructors. And that one guy who kept replaying it on school social."
Fuyumi's glare intensified, but she said nothing.
"After this whole meeting-with-the-Emperor, duelist-for-the-Empire, 'trying-not-to-die-in-the-Games' thing blows over…"
He gave her a casual salute. "I'll give you a proper rematch. Clean slate. One-on-one. No distractions. No yawns."
A pause.
Then he added, smirking— "Unless you prefer I fight half-awake again."
Fuyumi rolled her eyes, turning fully toward him now. "Just don't come back arrogant. Come back better."
Sallie blinked, then gave a more genuine nod. "Deal."
Celeste stepped up beside him, voice low. "That was surprisingly mature of you."
Angela gasped. "Wait, are we getting character growth already? This early in the arc?"
Sallie smirked and turned toward the Gate.
"Can't help it. Imperial glow's rubbing off on me."
The light surged, engulfing the platform now.
And with one last glance at the friends and rivals they'd leave behind—for now—the Salcedo siblings walked into the Gate, toward destiny, war…