Within the towering halls of Malacañang Palace, far beyond the public chambers, in a wing few ever dared tread without invitation, stood the Imperial War Room—a sanctuary of gleaming obsidian floors, enchanted glass walls, and pillars wrapped with golden runes of conquest and memory.
At the center of the room stood Gabriella Aurelia Mendez, dressed in her signature black and violet Imperial officer's uniform. Her cape—trimmed in polished hex-weave silk—hung behind her like a blade's shadow. Her hair was tied into a high braid, every movement precise, every breath controlled.
She stood facing the wide arcanum window, which overlooked a gleaming reflection pool and the vast Manila Bay.
Behind her, seated in a high-backed obsidian throne gilded with the Imperial Crest of the IFRP, was the Emperor himself—Aurelio Mendez III.
A presence that exuded raw command.
Gabriella spoke first, not turning to face him.
"They accepted the invitation."
The Emperor's voice came like rolling thunder, low and regal.
"Both of them?"
"Yes," Gabriella replied. "Celeste—sharp, focused. Disciplinary structure built into her very being. And Sallie…"
She paused.
"He's the anomaly. Lazy, yes. But he fights like a rogue algorithm. Like a wild protocol adapting mid-code. I saw it in person."
Aurelio's eyes narrowed slightly. "You speak of him as if he is dangerous."
Gabriella turned now, walking slowly toward the central mana table where projections of the Salcedo siblings' duel stats hovered in radiant layers. She tapped one, bringing up a moment from the finals—Sallie's multi-form CAD transformation, mid-fight, syncing perfectly with Celeste's layered spell burst.
"He is dangerous," she said. "But not in a way we should fear."
She rotated the hologram, zooming in on the moment he countered Eris Mei's suppression field with her own copied CAD system.
"He is untamed potential. Unrestrained by classical doctrine. He doesn't emulate our soldiers or even our duelists."
Aurelio watched silently.
Gabriella's voice lowered.
"He fights more like… Shiba."
The Emperor's gaze sharpened. A long silence followed.
"And do you believe he's ready to know of Shiba?"
Gabriella looked him in the eye now.
"That's not for me to decide. It's for him. But the Salcedo siblings won the right to stand before us. And Sallie earned the right to be measured against a myth."
Aurelio leaned back, stroking his jaw.
"You're staking much on this."
"Not a stake," Gabriella replied. "A calculation."
She turned back to the window, just as a golden arc of light surged in the air behind the palace.
The Teleportation Gate had activated—its edges pulsing with Gabriella's signature mana signature, shaped like a rotating crown and spearhead. It glowed high above the palace courtyard like a divine passage from another realm.
She smiled faintly.
"They're here."
Gabriella turned to the palace guards and gave a single nod.
"Bring them in."
And outside, the gate flared brighter—the Salcedo siblings had arrived.
As the golden light of the teleportation gate pulsed to full brightness, the courtyard of Malacañang Palace stood in utter silence.
The mana winds shifted, golden petals of arcane glyphs scattered across the marble tiles like whispers of war and legacy. The massive palace doors, gilded with runes and imperial symbology, stood open to receive the honored guests.
And then—the Salcedo siblings stepped through.
Sallie Mae Salcedo and Celeste Marie Salcedo emerged in full Fourth High formal uniforms—military-pressed, crest-emblazoned, perfectly tailored. Celeste's Grimoire CAD was magnetically sealed to her hip. Sallie's signature briefcase, Imperial Haxor, hung at his side like a war relic given a soul.
At the edge of the teleportation platform, two entire lines of Imperial soldiers stood at full formation.
Upon the siblings' arrival, the soldiers didn't speak. They didn't move—until Gabriella's personal sigil flared above the palace gates.
Then, in perfect unison, they marched one step back.
Turned inward—face to face across the platform.
And raised their right arms across their chests in a sharp, rigid Imperial salute, their fists clenched and arms angled diagonally upward—a gesture steeped in the Mendez regime's history of order and martial strength.
A moment later, at the end of the blackstone runway, just before the throne chamber's steps—Gabriella Aurelia Mendez appeared.
Tall. Silent. Cloaked in black and violet. Her eyes were unreadable.
Sallie and Celeste took only three steps forward.
Then, with practiced synchronicity, they knelt.
Right knees to the marble. Heads bowed. Fists clenched over their hearts. Not out of fear.
But in full respect, Sallie didn't slouch. Celeste didn't breathe.
Then together, their voices echoed across the courtyard—clear, formal, and sharp.
Emperor Aurelio Mendez III stood like a monument carved from stone and legacy, his gaze piercing yet regal, his very presence making the high marble ceilings feel lower, as though gravity itself bowed to his authority.
His cloak—deep crimson threaded with gold mana-stitched sigils—hung over one shoulder like a battle standard. And when he finally spoke, his voice rolled across the chamber like thunder wrapped in silk.
"Salcedo Celeste Marie. Salcedo Sallie Mae."
He said their names slowly, precisely—as though invoking something sacred.
"You knelt as students. You rise as champions."
Sallie and Celeste stood firm, hands at their sides, postures straight.
"The Empire has watched you—not only as representatives of your House, but as symbols of what this generation is becoming."
His gaze locked on Sallie for a beat longer, a flicker of curiosity in the otherwise stoic expression.
"You did not just win. You dismantled two of the USNA's most prized candidates—trained by the Stars themselves. Duelists engineered to dominate the battlefield through discipline and control."
"Yet you overwhelmed them… with unpredictability."
His eyes shifted to Celeste. "And you, with structure."
Then back to Sallie. "And you, with chaos."
The corners of Gabriella's lips turned upward—just slightly.
"For this, the Throne offers its recognition."
Gabriella stepped forward, voice now assuming its own measured tempo, crystal-clear.
"Your victories were not merely sport. The duels were a stage. And you passed the test."
"Which is why, by decree of the Imperial Council of Defense and Culture, and by direct approval of His Imperial Majesty—"
She raised a hand, projecting a golden seal into the air.
"You have been officially selected as Imperial Duel Representatives of Fourth High School for the coming Imperial Southeast Asian Games."
Behind her, the projection shimmered to life—showing the tournament crest, with rotating schools and banners beneath it. Names of countries, districts, conquered regions. Some still tense under occupation. Others fully integrated. All waiting.
Celeste's eyes flickered—not with surprise, but with focus. Determination, already processing what this would mean.
Sallie, however, couldn't help the quiet whistle between his teeth.
"That's a lot of flags…" The Emperor ignored the comment.
"You will carry the crest of this Empire into competition. Your battles will no longer be about school honor or regional pride."
"They will be watched by enemies. Allies. Spies. Every victory will be a message. Every defeat a vulnerability."
He stepped forward once more, towering now directly in front of Sallie.
"So I ask you both—knowing now what you represent…"
He narrowed his eyes. "Do you still accept the burden?"
Celeste didn't hesitate. "Yes, Your Majesty. Without question."
The guards at the edge of the hall stood perfectly still. The imperial sigils continued to glow behind the throne. And yet—
A moment later, the silence fractured.
Sallie Mae Salcedo shifted.
Not defiant.
Not disrespectful.
But with that same maddening, casual honesty that set him apart from every other duelist in the Empire.
He rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled slowly.
"Your Majesty…"
Everyone's eyes turned to him. Even Gabriella's head tilted slightly—not in confusion, but intrigue.
Sallie continued.
"Look, with all due respect—and I mean that, seriously—I didn't come here expecting to be conscripted into political war games."
He raised his hands halfway in the air, palm-out, trying to gesture more than speak.
"You're all talking about banners and enemies and eyes watching and—look, I just finished a wager match an hour ago that nearly cost me a $2,000 skin."
Celeste closed her eyes briefly and sighed.
Sallie didn't stop. "I have three novels in final draft. I'm this close—this close—to maxing out my fifth FPS loadout tree, and I haven't even backed up my game files yet."
"And if I screw this up and bring shame to the house or whatever, someone's probably gonna confiscate my stuff."
He looked around the hall, genuinely worried. "Like, for real. You'd take my gaming rig, wouldn't you?"
No one answered.
Not even the Emperor.
"That's what I thought," he muttered, folding his arms. "I didn't sign up for throne room politics."
Another beat of heavy silence. Then—Celeste stepped forward.
She didn't touch him, didn't even glance his way, but her voice cut through the air with poise and control.
"If I may speak… on behalf of my brother."
Gabriella raised an eyebrow but gave a subtle nod. The Emperor allowed it.
Celeste turned to face the throne directly, her gaze calm, words chosen with precision.
"Sallie is not motivated by patriotism. Nor by recognition, power, or the weight of the Empire. That much is true."
"But what you witnessed—what all of you witnessed on the field—was not political obedience."
"It was instinct. Talent. Purpose expressed through chaos."
She straightened her posture and continued.
"My brother doesn't care about optics. But he fights when it matters. He wins when no one else can. And he does it not for flags or thrones…" Her voice softened, but carried more impact.
"…but for the people standing next to him."
She glanced at Sallie for just a heartbeat, then back to the Emperor.
"If that is not loyalty in its truest form, then nothing we build from here matters."
Gabriella's lips pressed together, unreadable.
The Emperor was still. Then slowly, he turned to Sallie. "And what say you to that, boy?"
Sallie looked up, scratched the back of his head again.
Then sighed.
"If I get to keep my peripherals…" A pause.
"…and if no one messes with my rig…" Another pause.
"…and I don't get forced into a chair and lectured about politics…" He straightened—just a little.
"Then I guess… I'll bring the heat. Because if anyone's gonna crash their bracket hard enough to leave a crater…" He smirked—just slightly.
"Might as well be me. But Let me be straight with you."
He looked up, not with disrespect, but with transparency, something few dared speak with in the presence of an emperor.
"I'm not exactly thrilled to be thrown back into a bracket with the same ASEAN names we've seen year after year. Repeating duels with schools that have nothing new to bring. Patterns that haven't changed since the occupation protocols began."
"It's not fear. It's just…" He rolled his shoulders slightly. "It's boring."
"I'm not interested in crushing predictable playstyles. I'm not interested in standing on a podium just because the opposition couldn't adapt."
He tapped the briefcase CAD gently with a knuckle.
"This thing? The Imperial Haxor wasn't built for show matches. It wasn't made for flexing on people who haven't seen an adaptive loadout switch mid-dash."
"I didn't start trying in this tournament until we faced Section One."
Gabriella's eyes narrowed—curious now.
"Because they were trained by the USNA Stars," she said softly.
Sallie nodded, eyes sharp. "Exactly. That's what made it real for me. That was the first time I felt something on the battlefield that mattered."
He looked between the Emperor and Gabriella now.
"You want me to represent the Empire? Fine. I'll do it."
"I'll suit up for the Imperial Conquest Match. I'll step into the real Imperial Duel circuit if that's where the game goes. If it means fighting real contenders, sure."
Then, quietly:
"But if you're asking me to walk into the same circle and run victory laps around territories we've already beaten for the last five years… I'll pass. Because there's no challenge there."
A long silence followed.
Then Gabriella, stepping forward, spoke evenly:
"What if I could offer you someone greater?"
Sallie tilted his head. "Greater?"
"You've tasted the edge of Stars-tier combat. But there's a realm beyond them. The Empire is not the only one preparing. Japan has begun to stir."
"And he is watching now."
Sallie's eyes flickered. "You mean—"
Gabriella nodded slowly. "Yes. Tatsuya Shiba."
"The Empire believes in strength. But he—he is something else."
She folded her arms behind her back.
"Face the sea games. Crush the predictable. Make your presence undeniable."
"And then, when they can no longer deny your name..."
"We'll give you a gate into Japan. And if you truly want someone worth fighting—"
Her voice sharpened. "You'll find him waiting."
The silence in the throne room grew deeper—thicker—like gravity itself had shifted, pulling every breath, every heartbeat toward the quiet intensity of the Emperor's stare. Aurelio Mendez III observed Sallie carefully, measuring him not with suspicion, but with calculation—like a strategist facing an unexpected but intriguing battlefield formation.
Finally, after a long moment, the Emperor spoke. "Your disinterest is not without reason."
His voice carried weight, solemn and strong.
"The ASEAN duels have become predictable. These schools know their place under our flag, and they've ceased to surprise or challenge. Perhaps your reluctance has merit."
He paused, gaze narrowing slightly.
Celeste's eyes widened subtly, but she quickly steadied herself. Sallie's gaze, however, brightened with genuine intrigue.
"You're serious? An actual invasion—against Japan?"
The Emperor nodded slowly. "The Empire is more than prepared. Our naval divisions have gathered strength near Yokohama. Our magicians have trained rigorously for such a campaign. Our forces have calculated every known variable except one."
He lifted a finger, pointing directly toward Sallie. "A duelist who fights like the enemy himself."
Sallie's confusion faded, replaced by something closer to curiosity.
"Wait—'like the enemy himself'?"
Gabriella now stepped forward smoothly, her voice cool and measured.
"You fight like Tatsuya Shiba."
She allowed that truth to hang, shimmering in the air like a spell's echo.
Sallie shook his head slowly. "That's not the first time I've heard his name, but no one will tell me who he really is. He's just a ghost story around Fourth High—an urban legend."
Gabriella smiled faintly. Not a warm smile—a tactical one.
"Tatsuya Shiba is no legend, Sallie. He is very real, very dangerous, and very carefully hidden by Japan."
Celeste glanced toward her brother, her own curiosity quietly growing.
Sallie stepped forward slightly.
"Then who exactly is he? Why does everyone react like this name is cursed? And why do you think I fight like him?"
Gabriella's expression grew more intense, her voice lowering to a near whisper.
"Tatsuya Shiba is known by Japan's military council as the 'Demon of the East.' He is not just powerful—he is classified as Strategic-Class. He can alter battlefields single-handedly. He wields abilities that go beyond known magic theories."
She paused, letting the implication settle.
"You fought instinctively, unpredictably, and without formal discipline—and yet your combat style mirrors his. The way you dismantled the USNA's best. The way you broke their tactics by adapting your CAD forms in mid-fight, altering your approach without pause. That is exactly how Tatsuya fights: unpredictable, unstoppable, overwhelming."
Aurelio stepped forward, his presence commanding immediate silence.
"We need someone who can neutralize him. Someone who can match his unpredictability. Someone he cannot anticipate."
He pointed directly at Sallie once more, gaze severe yet respectful.
"I believe that person is you."
Sallie's heartbeat quickened—finally feeling the pull of a challenge he could truly care about.
"You want me to go against Tatsuya Shiba?"
Aurelio nodded slowly. "Yes. And in exchange for accepting this, I offer you something you will not refuse: full autonomy. No more forced matches, no more confiscations, no restrictions on your life outside combat."
He allowed a pause before continuing gravely:
"If you prove yourself in the invasion, if you face Shiba and overcome him—you will become more than a champion. You will become a living legend, recognized by this empire in ways you cannot imagine. Your novels will become immortalized. Your gaming achievements publicly recognized. You will live as you choose."
Gabriella added sharply "But first, you must accept the mission. You must willingly walk into the storm. The invasion of Japan will test you like no duel ever could. If you survive that, only then will you have the chance to face Tatsuya Shiba himself."
Sallie took a slow breath. His eyes were steady now—completely serious. The slacker façade was gone.
"This is… way bigger than I expected."
Gabriella's voice softened just slightly, a subtle attempt at honesty beneath her tactical edge.
"I know. But Tatsuya Shiba is not a name we invoke lightly. He is the enemy we've spent years preparing to face. Japan's ultimate weapon. We've measured our entire military doctrine against the threat he poses."
Celeste finally spoke, breaking her silent contemplation. "Then why Sallie? Why him specifically?"
Gabriella looked at Celeste steadily. "Because your brother is not bound by rules. He does not think like a soldier or a strategist. He thinks like chaos itself. If Japan's greatest strength is Tatsuya's unpredictability, our greatest weapon must also be unpredictable."
Emperor Aurelio Mendez III stepped forward once more, his voice now deeper—carrying a tone not of command, but reverence for the magnitude of what he was about to reveal.
"Tatsuya Shiba is not simply Japan's strongest magician. He is Japan's deterrent."
Sallie's brows rose slowly, his attention now fully locked in—not as a slacker, not as a gamer, but as a combatant standing on the edge of something real.
Aurelio continued. "He is a walking strategic-class asset. A human weapon capable of ending armies, rewriting entire conflicts. Not because of politics or titles—but because no one can stop him when he decides to act."
"His magic is refined to an art of annihilation. He doesn't use brute strength. He deconstructs reality itself. And he does it without hesitation."
Celeste turned slightly toward Gabriella. "A strategic-class magician in a school uniform?"
Gabriella nodded, folding her arms.
"He is the ghost they've kept hidden under the guise of a student. He obliterated an entire fleet with a single spell. Disintegrated warships. Neutralized national-class mages without counterattack."
"Tactical magic doesn't apply to him. He rewrote the rulebook—and then incinerated it."
Aurelio added quietly "And the world still has no idea what he truly is."
Sallie stood motionless, the flickering light from the Imperial crest catching in his eyes. Then, slowly—a grin formed across his face.
That grin wasn't cocky. It was hungry. "Now that's what I've been waiting for…"
He turned to Celeste briefly. "You hear this guy? He's like a mid-boss pretending to be a tutorial NPC."
Celeste gave him a restrained look. "He sounds like someone who doesn't miss."
Sallie chuckled under his breath. "Good. Because I want a real fight."
Gabriella stepped closer, her gaze sharpening.
"You don't understand, Sallie. Tatsuya Shiba does not fight. He executes."
"His magic is classified as Decomposition and Regrowth—meaning he can break down objects at the molecular level... and reconstruct them if he wishes. People. Weapons. Environments. Even magic itself."
She leaned in slightly, her voice deadly serious. "He doesn't just defeat opponents. He erases them. And once... he did it without showing emotion."
Sallie was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded—slowly. The grin had shifted again, a spark in his eye lit with something dangerous and alive.
"Then I want to face him even more. Not out of ego. Not for politics. But because people like that... they don't just appear. They happen."
He raised the Imperial Haxor briefcase beside him and tapped it once, like waking a sleeping lion.
"So if he's the best Japan has…Then I want him across the field when I'm at my best."
The Emperor added quietly but firmly "We are not asking you to survive him, Sallie Mae Salcedo."
"We are asking you to beat him."
Sallie's expression slowly hardened, the gleam of casual mischief replaced by resolute intensity. He glanced briefly at the briefcase in his hand, then sighed deeply.
He lifted his head, meeting the Emperor's gaze squarely.
"Alright, then. If it's really happening—if we're truly going to invade Japan, and if facing Tatsuya Shiba himself is on the table—I'll put everything else aside."
He paused, emphasizing his next words with a quiet seriousness that even Celeste rarely saw.
"I'll shelve my novels. I'll power down my gaming rig. All of my peripherals—everything. It all gets put away."
Celeste stared at him, a flash of surprise briefly crossing her usually composed features.
Sallie didn't falter. He pressed forward. "But I need to know something first."
Gabriella's eyes sharpened with curiosity. "Ask."
"How do I get Tatsuya Shiba to face me directly?" Sallie asked firmly. "Someone like him… he's not going to just appear because we set foot on Japanese soil. Strategic-class magicians don't come out unless they absolutely have to."
Gabriella nodded slowly, a faint, tactical smile forming.
"You're right. Shiba is not a reactive force—he is calculated, hidden, protected by the Yotsuba. But he has a known vulnerability."
Sallie's attention tightened sharply. "What vulnerability?"
Gabriella began walking slowly, pacing slightly as she spoke—her voice low, methodical, precise.
"His sister—Miyuki Shiba—is both his strength and his weakness. She's a strategic-level mage herself, the jewel of Japan's dueling circuit, their national treasure. Tatsuya's loyalty to her is absolute."
"To draw out the Demon of the East, you don't challenge him directly. You challenge what he values above all else."
Sallie's expression darkened slightly. "You're suggesting we target his sister?"
Gabriella's response was immediate—sharp, but measured.
"Not harm her. Never that. We are not monsters."
She tilted her head slightly, the gleam in her eyes not cold, but tactical.
"What I'm suggesting is much simpler—and far more effective."
"If you want to make Tatsuya Shiba move, you do not strike her body."
She took a half step closer, voice now just above a whisper, full of calculated mischief.
"You strike his nerve."
Sallie blinked, brow raising. "I'm listening…"
Gabriella let a rare, dry smirk slip through.
"Say something about her in public. Nothing violent. Nothing criminal. Just… suggestive. Funny. Mock her posture. Joke about her hygiene. Call her a glorified mascot or a frozen doll with a smile etched on."
"Say it with a grin. With just enough sarcasm to be believable—but just enough insult to be unforgivable."
Celeste's head turned sharply. "That's low."
"It's effective," Gabriella replied.
She raised one finger. "Tell the cameras she looks like she hasn't showered in two days."
"Suggest her spellcasting is makeup magic."
"Imply that her entire career is riding the coattails of her overprotective brother."
She stepped back and crossed her arms with perfect poise.
"Say that, and you won't have to send a challenge letter. Tatsuya Shiba will appear on your doorstep."
The room fell silent at the weight of the tactic.
Sallie stood there for a moment, absorbing the full absurdity—and brilliance—of it.
"…Insulting his sister to bait him?"
Gabriella simply nodded. "That's all it takes."
The Emperor, still silent but watching closely, finally spoke—his voice deep, deliberate.
"We have spent decades trying to understand what stirs the Demon of the East. We found only one consistent trigger. His bond with Miyuki."
"You don't need to defeat her. You only need to mock her."
Sallie stared at the ground for a second… then looked up slowly, that same smirk forming once again.
"So… all I have to do is drop a few spicy lines on national broadcast, and the most powerful magician in Japan comes running with a death glare?"
Celeste's eyes narrowed. "This feels like suicide with extra steps."
Sallie shrugged. "Or an excellent opportunity for content."
Gabriella nodded once. "It will be dangerous. Unpredictable. He may not hold back. But you want him, don't you?"
Sallie's expression turned deadly calm. "Yeah."
Celeste, who had been silent—composed yet quietly absorbing every detail—finally stepped forward, her voice calm but carrying a clear edge of caution. Her eyes met Gabriella's first, then moved respectfully to the Emperor himself.
"Your Majesty, with all due respect… this plan could trigger something we might not be prepared for."
Gabriella turned slightly, her eyebrows lifting in subtle interest. The Emperor simply watched Celeste, waiting for her to continue.
Celeste took a slow breath, carefully choosing her next words.
"If Tatsuya Shiba truly is as powerful as you say—if he can dismantle entire fleets and erase battlefields without effort—aren't we taking a risk that we might severely underestimate?"
She glanced at Sallie, who for once, simply listened quietly without interrupting.
"My brother is talented. Maybe even gifted. But from everything you've told us, Shiba isn't just strong. He's borderline unstoppable. He doesn't just win fights—he erases the concept of opposition itself."
Her voice softened slightly, genuine worry surfacing beneath the calm.
"Are we truly prepared to send my brother—or anyone—into a confrontation with a magician capable of rewriting reality?"
The Emperor remained silent, considering Celeste's concerns deeply. Gabriella answered calmly, acknowledging the gravity of her worries.
"Your caution is valid, Celeste Marie. Tatsuya Shiba is indeed powerful beyond conventional measurement. He is the strongest asset Japan has ever produced—perhaps even stronger than the Strategic-class magicians known elsewhere."
She paused, carefully structuring her response.
"But consider this: the Empire isn't stepping blindly into this confrontation. We've studied him extensively, from a safe distance. His power is terrifying, yes—but it's not invincible. His strength lies in his precision, his analytical nature, and his disciplined calm. We have seen these qualities mirrored in your brother."
Celeste shook her head slightly. "But that doesn't mean Sallie can survive an encounter with him."
Gabriella met her eyes, understanding the seriousness of Celeste's concern.
"We're not expecting Sallie to defeat Shiba through raw power. No one can outmatch him directly in that regard. But Sallie is different. Your brother's strength lies in his unpredictability, his adaptability. He fights intuitively. Instinctively. Chaotically. Precisely the kind of combat that someone as methodical as Shiba struggles to fully anticipate."
"The key isn't to overpower Shiba—it's to surprise him, to disrupt his analytical advantage."
Celeste exhaled slowly, visibly processing Gabriella's words. She turned briefly toward Sallie, whose eyes were now sharp, focused.
Finally, she spoke softly again. "And if we fail? If even surprise isn't enough?"
It was the Emperor who finally spoke, his voice quiet yet powerful.
"Then we will know exactly where the limit of our Empire lies."
"We are not entering Japan carelessly. If your brother succeeds, he becomes a legend. If he fails… then we accept the consequences of challenging the strongest."
Celeste lowered her gaze, then raised it once more, resolved.
"I understand."
Sallie stepped forward, placing a hand gently on his sister's shoulder—an unspoken assurance.
"Celeste. If there's one thing I've learned from every game, every duel, every moment we've fought side by side…"
He turned to her fully, conviction burning quietly in his eyes.
"It's that no opponent, no matter how powerful, is truly unbeatable. Not even this Demon of the East."
Celeste, comforted yet still deeply aware of the stakes, nodded quietly.
Gabriella, sensing the siblings' resolve, concluded with quiet authority:
"Your concerns are exactly why we chose you both. You balance each other—caution and chaos, discipline and daring."
"The Empire is betting on it."
His posture wasn't slack. His voice wasn't joking.
For once, Sallie Mae Salcedo stood tall—centered. Focused. Dead serious.
He stared ahead at the Emperor, then at Gabriella. Then, quietly but clearly:
"There's no need to tell me to survive Tatsuya Shiba's wrath. I didn't come this far to walk away when things get interesting."
He adjusted the strap on his briefcase CAD, his fingers casually brushing over its polished surface, the hum of magic flickering quietly through its seals.
"I don't need your fear. I don't need to be told what not to do."
He looked straight into Gabriella's eyes, unwavering.
"Like you both said before, I'm not planning to survive him... I'm planning to defeat him."
A quiet gasp moved like a current through the guards in the chamber.
Celeste looked at him sharply—but this time, said nothing.
Sallie pressed on. "I'm not doing it for glory. Not for thrones, banners, medals, or names etched in stone."
"I'm doing it because I'm bored out of my mind."
He began to pace—slowly—like someone preparing their own battlefield with words.
"Every fight so far—every match, every bracket, every so-called champion—they're just reruns. Scripted. Predictable."
"But this? Him?"
His grin returned now—not careless, but wild. Hungry.
"Tatsuya Shiba is different. He's a living nightmare. A one-man apocalypse. A magician so powerful even empires hesitate to speak his name above a whisper."
He turned fully toward the throne. "And all I want is to go toe to toe with that."
He raised a hand and held up a single finger. "No politics."
Another finger.
"No backup."
Another.
"No interventions."
His last finger closed into a fist.
"Just me. And him. In a ring. One-on-one."
"No excuses. No orders. No second chances."
The air felt different now—charged, volatile.
Even the Emperor sat back, silent. Gabriella's smirk was gone, replaced by something colder. Sharper. Respect.
Sallie finished, voice low but steady.
"You can keep invading Japan's soil. You can move fleets, gates, soldiers—do what the Empire does best."
"But leave me out of the pageantry."
"Just point me at him. And when the Demon of the East shows up…"
He smiled again, one last time. "…I'll show him what happens when a slacker gets serious."
Gabriella straightened her back, her voice quiet but impressed.
"You may be reckless, Sallie Mae… but I believe you."
The Emperor nodded once, slowly.
"Then the Empire will grant you that match. No walls. No chains. No shield around Shiba. You asked for war without politics."
"We will give you a duel without rules."
The flame had been lit.
And now, nothing would stop its burn.
He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing—not out of doubt, but curiosity. His tone eased, returning to that signature half-casual drawl—but now sharpened by genuine interest.
"Alright. I'm in. I'll face Shiba. One-on-one. No holds barred. But…"
He crossed his arms loosely, brows raised as he glanced from Gabriella to the Emperor.
"Before I go and insult someone's sister on an international stage, I gotta ask—who exactly is this Miyuki Shiba? And why does Japan's scariest walking warhead lose his mind anytime someone so much as sneezes in her direction?"
Celeste shifted slightly beside him, already expecting this line of questioning.
Gabriella didn't hesitate. She stepped forward with quiet confidence, folding her arms behind her back.
"Miyuki Shiba is more than just Tatsuya's younger sister."
"She is the emotional anchor that keeps him grounded. The one person in all of Japan he would destroy the world for, without hesitation."
Sallie blinked. "Sounds… intense."
"It is," Gabriella said. "She is graceful. Intelligent. A prodigy in her own right. But more than that—Tatsuya has been conditioned—perhaps even engineered—to protect her above all else."
She turned slightly, eyes narrowing as she spoke the next part carefully.
"Some theorize it's the result of deep psychic trauma. Others believe it's magical imprinting, or a subconscious binding protocol developed during their childhood under the Yotsuba's control."
Sallie whistled low. "So she's like… the nuke switch."
Gabriella gave a faint smile. "You could say that."
The Emperor spoke next, his voice deep and solemn.
"Our intelligence observed multiple incidents where foreign operatives tested this theory. Once, a Yotsuba rival commented publicly—only suggested—that Miyuki was unfit to represent Japan's magical elite."
"Tatsuya erased that man's entire casting center before he could finish a second sentence."
Sallie nodded slowly, his tone growing more serious again.
"So that's the button I have to push… And she's not just important to him. She's the reason he shows up at all."
Gabriella answered with certainty. "Exactly."
"The battlefield doesn't summon Tatsuya Shiba. But Miyuki does."
Sallie looked down briefly, then back up with a grin—half-wicked, half-determined.
"Guess I better make sure whatever I say... is just the right kind of wrong."
Celeste sighed. "You're really going to go through with this, aren't you?"
He glanced at her and nodded.
"If that's what it takes to get a one-on-one with Japan's strongest? Then yeah."
He looked toward the golden seal above the Emperor's dais.
"Let the Empire do what it does best."
"And I'll do what I do best."
Gabriella took a measured step toward Sallie, closing the distance just enough that he felt the quiet intensity radiating from her.
"But before you get your duel with Tatsuya Shiba, the Empire needs you to fulfill your role first."
She paused, ensuring her words landed with precise clarity.
"We need you—not just to stand in the spotlight, but to compete fully in the Imperial SEA Games. Win the duels, show the entire region why Fourth High and House Salcedo earned their place here. Prove you're worth the Empire's investment."
Sallie raised an eyebrow, still maintaining his casual demeanor, though his eyes had sharpened.
"So I have to go through the motions, beat some brackets, wave the flag a little—and then you'll deliver Shiba?"
Gabriella nodded slightly.
"Exactly. But not only the Games. The Empire is also counting on you to participate fully in the upcoming invasion of Japan. Prove yourself on the battlefield. Lead the charge alongside our finest soldiers and duelists."
She let the silence stretch just a heartbeat.
"When Japan sees their cities tremble, when their defenses fail, when their pride is threatened—that is when Tatsuya Shiba will emerge. That's when you'll get your duel."
Sallie considered this carefully, eyes narrowing as he processed every detail. After a brief moment, he nodded slowly—accepting the stakes fully.
"Fine. You want a champion and a conqueror? I'll be both."
He raised the briefcase CAD firmly.
"If getting to Shiba means wading through politics, pageantry, and invasions, so be it. I'll crush the games. I'll fight in your invasion."
His voice hardened. "But when Tatsuya finally shows himself—he's mine."
Gabriella's expression shifted subtly, genuine approval slipping into her otherwise disciplined composure.
"Then we have a deal."
She stepped back, looking toward her father. The Emperor rose slightly from his throne, his presence filling the chamber once again.
"The Empire accepts your terms, Sallie Mae Salcedo."
"Fight for us—and you will have your Demon of the East."
Sallie met the Emperor's gaze, firm and unwavering.
"Consider it done."
Celeste quietly watched her brother, understanding now the path ahead—one that neither of them could turn back from.
The deal was sealed.
The Empire had its champion.
And Sallie Mae Salcedo finally had his match.
She turned toward Gabriella and the Emperor, her voice now thoughtful, measured—not defiant, but keenly aware of the scope surrounding them.
"With your permission, Your Majesty… I would speak candidly."
The Emperor gestured solemnly. "Speak, Commander."
Celeste folded her hands behind her back.
"My brother may not care for politics, but I do."
"And I know the Empire isn't just declaring war on a nation—we are testing the limits of the old world. The world where Japan sits quietly, proudly, untouched by any hand but its own."
Gabriella gave a subtle nod, her expression intrigued. "Go on."
"We've studied Japan for years. We've occupied half the region, seized magical R&D facilities across Southeast Asia, and neutralized every regional resistance with ruthless efficiency."
"But Japan?" She exhaled. "Japan is different."
She looked to Sallie, then back to Gabriella.
"They've played the long game. While we marched forward and bled openly, they hid their power in shadows. Behind schools. Behind traditions. Behind secrecy."
The Emperor's gaze narrowed with interest. Celeste continued, stepping forward.
"Tatsuya Shiba is their checkmate piece. The one they never put on the board unless they absolutely have to. Not because they're scared of us—but because they're scared of what he becomes if they lose control."
"He is their answer. Their silence in a world full of noise."
She turned fully toward Gabriella now.
"So I understand why we haven't seen him. Because Japan isn't hiding him from us. They're hiding him from themselves. Because if they let him loose—truly loose—it means the game is over. Not for us. For them."
Gabriella's eyes shimmered with approval. Even the Emperor gave a quiet hum of agreement.
"Astute," Gabriella said. "Very few in the Inner Court speak that clearly."
Celeste inclined her head respectfully. "It's not just a duel, Your Majesty. Not just a conquest."
"It's provocation. And once we strike the right chord…"
She turned to her brother, calm and resolute. "The monster in the dark will come out. Because that's how they survive."
"Then the Empire moves forward—with reason and fire at its side."
Celeste bowed slightly. "As it must."
Gabriella stepped beside them both now, her voice low, confident.
"Prepare yourselves. Once the invasion begins, all of Japan will know our names. And when the shadows break… Tatsuya Shiba will have no choice but to step into the light."
---
The night had settled over Malacañang Palace like a soft curtain of velvet and gold. Beyond the marble arches and gilded spires, the heart of Imperial Manila glowed in a thousand hues—silver-blue arcane lights, golden banners fluttering from mage towers, and the soft glimmer of magical tramlines weaving through the cityscape.
On one of the high balconies, with the wind gently brushing their uniforms, Sallie Mae Salcedo and Celeste Marie Salcedo stood side by side, looking out over their homeland.
The stars reflected faintly in the Pasig River below. The flags of the Empire stood proudly on every rooftop, every streetlight. It was a capital at peace on the surface—but the air pulsed with movement. Preparation. War. Ambition.
Sallie leaned casually on the balustrade, arms folded, but his eyes weren't distant. They were focused—a rare stillness behind his usual drifting gaze.
Celeste, standing just beside him, didn't speak at first. She just watched him.
It wasn't the slacker she'd grown up beside.
It was the same boy who had stood before the Emperor and promised to face a legend.
She broke the silence softly.
"You know… I think this is the first time I've seen you speak to someone in power without comparing anything to an FPS loadout or a fantasy novel plot twist."
Sallie gave a soft chuckle, the breeze tugging lightly at his coat.
"Don't get used to it. I'm still me. I've just… never wanted something this real before."
Celeste tilted her head slightly, curious. "What changed?"
Sallie didn't answer immediately. He looked over the city—the lights, the towers, the empire built brick by brick under a dream of domination. And beyond that... Japan. The enemy. The unknown.
"Everyone in that throne room talked about Tatsuya Shiba like he was a force of nature. A ghost. A walking apocalypse."
"I've spent my whole life being told to care about things that didn't matter. Exams. House formality. Public appearances. How many hours I sleep during class…"
He turned slightly to face her. "But this? This duel? This invasion? He matters."
Celeste nodded slowly, her arms folded, mirroring him slightly. "You didn't get like this when we faced the USNA duelists."
Sallie smirked faintly. "Because they were strong—but not scary."
He looked up toward the star-filled sky. "Tatsuya… he's scary."
"And that's the point. I want to know if I can stand in front of that kind of power and not flinch. I want to know what happens when someone who's never taken anything seriously... finally does."
Celeste's voice had been quiet—cautious, almost—when she asked it "And if you lose?"
Sallie didn't answer right away. He looked out over the horizon where the lights of Manila blurred into the velvet dark of the sea—somewhere out there, across the waves, was the storm they were about to sail into.
And still, he smiled.
Not out of arrogance.
Out of conviction.
He straightened just slightly, his arms resting on the balustrade, and spoke—not loudly, but with that rare tone Celeste only heard when he meant every word.
"I'm not losing. Not to him."
Celeste turned toward him again, her expression unreadable.
Sallie continued. "Not while we're this close. Not while we've made it this far. Not when we've earned every step with blood, grit, and every lazy afternoon I didn't waste."
"I have my eyes on the prize, Celeste."
He turned to her now, fully facing her, his voice lower, steadier.
"We're going to win the Imperial Duel at the SEA Games. You and me. All the way. And when we're done standing on top of that podium—when the Empire knows our names, when the other nations stop whispering and start watching—that's when I'll call him out."
His hand tapped the briefcase lightly, the hum of mana echoing just under the surface.
"I'm going to earn that fight the right way. Not as a gimmick. Not as some wildcard. I'll face him because I'll deserve it. And when we go one-on-one…"
A beat. His eyes sharpened.
"…he'll know I didn't come to survive. I came to win."
Celeste held his gaze. The same brother who used to sleep through strategy briefings. Who once turned in duel formations sketched like comic book loadouts. Who quoted novels in the middle of sparring matches.
Now he spoke like a man with a throne in his sights.
And this time, she didn't question it.
Instead, her voice softened again—still cool, but steady.
"Then I'll make sure no one else gets in your way. Because I want to see what happens when the Empire's laziest prodigy faces Japan's sharpest sword."
Sallie chuckled, a hand brushing his hair back from the breeze.
"Let's give them a show."
Celeste turned slightly, the wind catching the edge of her uniform cape. For a moment, she didn't speak. She just watched him—really watched him—not as her troublemaking brother, not as the slacker who used to nap under mana projectors, but as the one person who had somehow, inexplicably, grown into something more.
Then, quietly—genuinely—she smiled. "You really mean it."
Sallie arched a brow, smirking. "What, surprised?"
"A little," she admitted. "You used to fake a migraine just to skip practical spell exams."
"Because they were boring," he shot back. "And I already knew the answers."
She rolled her eyes with a smirk of her own, but it didn't hide the shift in her tone—the shift in her.
"I used to scold you about everything," she said softly. "The games, the novels, your ridiculous sleeping habits. I thought you were wasting your potential."
"I mean, you kind of were. Ouch."
"But now…" She looked down at the city below, then back at him.
"Now I get it."
Sallie blinked. "Get what?"
"That all those hours you spent in virtual combat simulations, customizing loadouts, writing worlds where gods dueled over broken cities…" Her voice grew quiet, but more certain. "It wasn't a waste."
She turned fully to face him, her expression composed but proud.
"You were just preparing in your own way. You didn't need structure. You needed freedom. Time. Space to grow on your terms. And now you're standing at the edge of something only you can do."
He looked at her for a moment, unsure how to respond. Not with sarcasm. Not with deflection.
Just quiet gratitude. Celeste continued, her tone lighter now.
"So if that duel with Tatsuya is what you want… then I'll make sure you get there. No matter how many brackets we have to break, how many nations we steamroll, how many spells I have to cast until my fingers bleed—We do this together."
Sallie smirked, but there was something softer beneath it.
"You're not going to say something sappy like 'I'm proud of you,' are you?"
Celeste narrowed her eyes. "I'm almost proud of you. Don't ruin it."
They both laughed, the sound rising above the hum of the city below.
Sallie leaned his elbows back onto the marble railing again, exhaling slowly as if drawing words from somewhere deeper than usual. He looked sideways at Celeste, a wry smile tugging gently at the corner of his lips.
"You know what's funny about all this?"
Celeste glanced at him, eyebrow raised in mild curiosity. "What?"
He gestured vaguely with one hand. "Us. You and me. Compared to them—those Shiba siblings."
Celeste waited patiently, sensing he was gathering his thoughts rather than cracking another joke.
"They probably never argue. They probably have each other's back without even needing to speak. Perfect teamwork, perfect understanding, always calm, always precise. And here we are—fighting, yelling, bickering like kids who never left the playground."
She smiled faintly, almost despite herself. "It's true. We're usually closer to being opponents than allies."
Sallie chuckled lightly. "Exactly. We argue about everything. Spellcasting methods, strategy choices, whether or not I should 'waste' my time on another match of whatever FPS I'm playing. Half the time we can't even agree which bracket to tackle first."
He paused, his voice quieting just a bit. "But look at us now."
His gaze shifted out over Manila, distant but focused. "We fought each other almost as much as we fought everyone else. But despite all of that—every argument, every insult we threw around, every time we looked away from each other in frustration—we're still here."
"We made it this far. We won the preliminary qualifiers, and we're the ones representing Fourth High, no matter how many times we swore we'd never stand next to each other."
Celeste's eyes softened subtly as she listened.
Sallie glanced back at her, expression calm but earnest.
"And you know why?"
She tilted her head, quietly prompting him. "Why?"
"Because no matter how many times we yell, or complain, or fight like absolute children—we're still family. You're still my sister. I'm still your annoying brother. And when it counts, we help each other. Because deep down, that matters more."
Celeste let out a gentle breath, her own tone gentler than usual.
"You're right. Even if we disagree on almost everything, even if your gaming habits drive me mad—we have always fought together when it counted most."
Sallie nodded slowly, the faintest hint of a sincere smile still lingering.
"Exactly. We might not be as perfect as the Shibas, and we might never be. But maybe our imperfections are exactly what brought us here. Maybe being able to fight openly is better than being silently perfect."
Celeste smiled softly, a rare warmth in her voice. "Maybe that's why we can face them—and win."
Sallie straightened slightly, eyes sharpening again.
"Then let's keep yelling, arguing, and fighting all we want—because when it's time to stand together, we'll be ready."
He extended his hand, almost playfully but with real sincerity behind the gesture. "Agreed?"
Celeste smiled, finally allowing genuine amusement and pride into her expression as she shook his hand firmly. "Yeah."
As the evening breeze rolled across the balcony, brushing against their uniforms and softening the weight of their conversation, the atmosphere finally began to ease. The stars above Manila twinkled like scattered mana fragments, and the world, for just a moment, felt quiet again.
Sallie stretched his arms behind his head, letting out a long sigh.
"Whew. Alright, enough talk about conquest, strategy-class monsters, and national duelist responsibilities."
He turned his head toward Celeste with a casual smirk.
"Let's talk about something actually important."
Celeste looked at him sideways, arching an eyebrow. "Like what? How to dodge another team debriefing?"
"No, no," he said, grinning. "Domestic priorities."
She crossed her arms, amused but skeptical. "I'm listening."
He shifted his stance, voice now mock-dramatic.
"When we get back to Batangas... do we stop by the market and cook for ourselves like responsible siblings who pretend they're not national-level assets? Or do we skip the dishes, hit up the nearest open diner, and eat like the semi-functional chaos duo we actually are?"
Celeste gave a soft snort. "That's what you consider a tactical decision?"
"Hey," he said, raising a finger. "We're gonna be dueling in the Sea Games. I need to preserve mana and emotional energy. Washing dishes is a drain on both."
She pretended to consider it, tapping her chin.
"Well, if we cook, we get to avoid crowds and control the food quality. Plus, you can't burn mana over rice."
"True," Sallie admitted, "but eating out means no prep, no cleanup, and—bonus—we don't have to argue over who scrubs the pot."
"You never scrub the pot."
"Exactly," he replied with a grin. "I'm protecting my briefcase. It's a precision instrument."
She rolled her eyes, but smiled. "Fine. Let's eat out. You're lucky I don't want to scrub anything tonight either."
Sallie gave her a mock salute. "A wise decision, Commander."
Just as Sallie and Celeste turned away from the balcony, footsteps echoed softly down the polished hall leading to the overlook. The steady, disciplined rhythm gave them only a moment's warning before a figure emerged from the shadows of the archway.
A tall Imperial Federal soldier, dressed in obsidian-black uniform accented with crimson and gold trim, came to a crisp halt before them. The glint of the Empire's insignia was stamped across his shoulder pauldron, and his tone was as precise as his posture.
"Forgive the interruption, Champions."
Celeste straightened automatically. Sallie turned lazily, still in relaxed mode, blinking once with his usual post-deep-thought daze.
"What's up, shiny boots?"
The soldier gave the briefest nod of acknowledgment—whether amused or ignoring the nickname was impossible to tell.
"Lady Gabriella Aurelia Mendez has summoned the Imperial Gate. It is ready and stabilized. Your return to Batangas has been scheduled through high-priority recall protocols."
He stepped to the side and extended his arm toward the hall's end, where a faint, warm golden glow now shimmered against the marble pillars.
"Your gate awaits you at the eastern transit platform, under direct sigil command."
Sallie gave a mock sigh of exaggerated relief.
"Thank the Empire. I didn't want to deal with traffic or teleport queues."
Celeste glanced at the shimmer of light in the distance and gave a small nod.
"Acknowledged. We'll head there now."
The soldier gave a firm salute before stepping aside.
As they made their way down the long corridor, the faint pulse of the Imperial Gate grew clearer—a circular ring of shifting glyphs and layered light, woven by Gabriella's signature mana imprint. The inner ring pulsed steadily, ready to send them back across the nation in a single blink.
Sallie looked at it like someone seeing the welcome screen of his favorite game.
"Well," he muttered, nudging Celeste with an elbow. "One warp trip home, dinner outside, and zero dishes to scrub."
She gave a slight smirk, brushing his arm off. "Don't get used to royal treatment."
"Too late," he grinned. "I'm already calculating the next shortcut."