Chapter 1 [Volume1]: When the May Rain Ceases

The magical girl was dead.

Two groups of people came to the magical girl’s memorial service; one group she didn’t know in life, and the other group she also didn’t know in life.

“Miss Flower Arranger dedicated the final year of her life entirely to the cause of magical girls, hunting Nightmares and protecting the public until her sacrifice. This may well be the reason for her eventual death from overwork….”

At the center of the hall, beside the coffin surrounded by rectangular floral arrangements, the Magical Girl Tea Party’s logistics doctor read the prepared eulogy from an A4 sheet of paper in a mournful voice.

But the whispers from below the stage painted a completely different picture.

“They’re glossing it over as death from overwork? Let me tell you, a friend of mine happened to be at the scene and took a photo. It seems she was sliced in half on the spot by a Nightmare’s spatial slash. It was gruesome.”

“Horizontally or vertically?”

“Horizontally, I guess. A vertical cut would be too undignified.”

“A horizontal cut doesn’t seem very dignified either.”

The coffin only contained The Flower Arranger’s old weapons, not her body, which seemed to lend a bit more credibility to the vertical-cut theory. ‘If she were cut in half right down the middle, cosmetic restoration of the body would be very difficult, so it makes sense they’d just make it a cenotaph…’

“Maybe she was shattered into hundreds of pieces. But don’t Nightmares cause nearby machinery to malfunction? Your friend must have a good camera,” a boy nearby commented casually.

“Huh? Oh, right, I’m not really sure…” The girl stammered for a moment before snapping to her senses. “Who are you? Eavesdropping? You creep!”

“Me? My name is Ren Huazhi. I’m a novelist, of a sort. If it’s convenient, could I interview you two? I feel like this could be great material from different perspectives.”

The two turned to look at the source of the voice, which matched its steady yet rapid pace: a somewhat short young man. He wore a dark overcoat and held a palm-sized notebook and a pen.

“Are you two magical girls? What were your impressions and opinions of The Flower Arranger? Did your friend witness the entire incident? If it’s convenient, the witness’s contact information…”

His demeanor was so aggressive that the two girls, who had initially looked ready for a fight, felt an inexplicable sense of intimidation, threw out a “You psycho!” and hurried away.

‘Was my approach a bit off? I scared them away immediately.’

Ren Huazhi stood there, scratching his head with the end of his pen.

The attendees were clearly divided into two groups, their auras vastly different:

One was the Nancheng Police Department delegation, dressed in crisp, uniform suits. They had long wanted to establish official ties with the “Magical Tea Party,” but were intentionally or unintentionally avoided by The Flower Arranger;

The other was the magical girls, all of whom were currently in their transformed states, clad in colorful frilly dresses. They relied on the Tea Party’s website for information but knew very little about its creator.

These two groups couldn’t stand each other and were now subtly competing.

He couldn’t get any more information from the magical girls, and the police department group looked difficult to approach at a glance. Ren Huazhi had never had the experience of being taken to the station for a “cup of tea,” but figured with a clear conscience, the worst it could be was obstruction of police duties. Thinking this, he felt a little tempted to try…

But in the end, he didn’t act on this dangerous impulse, because on the stage, the logistics doctor, Dr. Meng, had already moved the memorial service to the next stage—recalling The Flower Arranger’s contributions and honors.

“Our Nancheng Magical Girl Tea Party began with an online bulletin board created by Miss Flower Arranger. She repeatedly emphasized that magical girls are street-level heroes fighting Nightmares, not an army, and that bureaucratization and militarization should be avoided. Therefore, the magical girls have maintained a rather loose connection, and the Tea Party has been limited to information exchange—”

“But wasn’t her sacrifice a direct result of delayed response due to the lack of a formal team structure? The other magical girls couldn’t even provide support—they didn’t even know she had died in battle right away!”

The one who loudly interrupted the doctor’s speech was the police department representative, a middle-aged man with graying temples.

“Originally, we could have had a very pleasant cooperation! Backed by an official, standardized support system, it would have been beneficial to both our sides. I don’t understand why she—”

“That’s enough, Officer Si. It’s all in the past now.”

The doctor looked coldly at the officer, who was over fifty years old.

He was the one who had spearheaded the Nancheng Police Department’s contact with the magical girls, originally intending to gather these unstable civilian combatants, ranging from their teens to their twenties, for unified management and research.

But because of The Flower Arranger’s repeated breaches of agreement and deliberate obstruction, the doctor on the stage had also tacitly approved of her unorganized and undisciplined behavior, to the point that they still hadn’t even collected complete information on all active magical girls.

She always managed to find the police’s secret posts in the back alleys and would even deliberately lure Nightmares nearby, using their inherent “Anti-Civilization Field” to turn their hard-earned data into garbled nonsense. Her precise maneuvers never resulted in casualties, so the police could never find an excuse to openly oppose her…

But now, this mysterious vigilante, whom the police both loved and hated, had died without a word, leaving not even a body behind.

Beyond his regret and sentimentality, Officer Si felt more anger at the Tea Party’s strange, uncooperative attitude. But this was their funeral, after all, and after being glared at by the doctor, he couldn’t very well continue his outburst.

The memorial service proceeded in an orderly fashion, finally reaching its concluding phase.

Everyone mechanically offered flowers for The Flower Arranger, mechanically observed three minutes of silence, and mechanically began to exit slowly through the side door.

Click—

Suddenly, the tightly closed main doors were pushed open.

A magical girl in black strode in, the scorching sparks flaring from her skirt hem causing the crowd to automatically part for her. She walked straight over the flower arrangements to the side of the coffin.

Yet, the doctor merely nodded at this late arrival. “Mangzhong, thank you for your work on the urgent commission.”

Mangzhong didn’t respond to her greeting, instead leaning down and lifting The Flower Arranger’s weapons out of the coffin.

A large round shield and a greatsword. With her slender arms, The Flower Arranger had wielded these two weapons, either of which would be enough to crush an adult, and fought against Nightmares until this day.

“What are you doing?” the doctor asked.

The magical girl Mangzhong’s face was expressionless, but her voice was as dry and hoarse as if it came from hell itself. “Inheriting her, Doctor.”

“I assume you know that the Magical Hunting Gear is custom-made by me for each of you based on your magical energy levels and physical condition. Even if the affinity is transferred, you won’t be able to use its full power.”

“I know.”

“So—”

“The Nightmare that killed the President, what’s its number?”

“147.”

“So it’s already reached… that number.”

Mangzhong took her own weapon from her back; it was a sword with a long, slender blade but a complex mechanical structure at the hilt.

A “Gunblade.”

She tossed the weapon that had accompanied her through life and death behind her without a second thought, provoking another round of gasps and evasions. Then, ignoring everyone present, she shouldered the sword and shield and left.