Chapter 29: We’re Short on People Again

After a brief exchange, the Bureau’s AI evaluation system classified the monster Kexin was facing as Gamma-class.

The spider creature’s vaguely human face twisted into a grotesque grin, its glowing red eyes showing not even a hint of fear toward the magical girl before it.

Unlike most Gamma-class anomalies, this one seemed to have absorbed something else — maybe a trace of human intelligence, since it had been born from a human host.

Normally, the monsters they fought didn’t feel alive in that way. As Qisi once told her, monsters didn’t experience pain, nor did they have emotions.

Facing such an abnormal case, Kexin dared not underestimate it.

After her first shot was neutralized, she immediately poured more mana into her weapon and fired again.

The spider monster displayed agility far beyond her expectations — almost as if it could anticipate her attacks. Its eight legs moved with terrifying speed, and it could leap astonishingly high — nearly twenty meters in a single bound.

Kexin’s rifle was semi-automatic, but every shot required manual mana infusion, creating long gaps between each shot.

After more than a dozen rounds, only the blast waves had grazed the creature; the rest had missed completely — and the park’s facilities were now in ruins.

When she glanced at the spider again, she could swear its grin had grown wider — mocking her.

Great. I’m being laughed at by a monster.

No one would believe that if she told them.

Kexin gritted her teeth, tightening her grip on her weapon. She wanted nothing more than to blow the disgusting spider to pieces in one shot.

“Kexin, can you hear me?”

“Agent Guan?” Kexin hadn’t expected the voice to suddenly come through. Guan was her and Qisi’s communication officer — at least for now.

“Qisi reported that something appeared inside the Fuwen Building, but I’ve lost contact with her. Can you head there immediately?”

“Qisi—? But I can’t leave here right now!”

If she left, there would be no one to contain the spider. And if it broke out of the park and reached the nearby residential area, the consequences would be disastrous.

If only there were someone who could take her place…

“Agent Guan, can’t you dispatch anyone else?”

“If I could, I wouldn’t be asking you,” came the weary reply.

She quickly summarized the situation — multiple Beta-class anomalies had appeared across the city at the same time, and there were even reports of Gamma-class reactions.

The magical girls mobilized for the earlier sweep operation were now tied up fighting monsters in their own districts.

Most of the so-called “freelance” magical girls were only C-rank, barely capable of handling such threats. Clearing a sudden outbreak of this scale would take time.

In the Bureau’s classification system, Alpha-class monsters posed little threat to humans — at most causing mild psychological disturbances.

Beta-class monsters, however, were the standard combat targets — dangerous enough that ordinary weapons could kill them, but far too tough for civilians to handle.

Even when riddled with bullets, Beta-class monsters often kept moving; they didn’t die from blood loss.

The quickest way to kill one was to destroy its mana core, but those were usually no larger than a palm — and monsters tended to be huge, fast, or heavily armored.

Beta-class anomalies made up the bulk of encounters magical girls faced.
But a Gamma-class one? That was far beyond what a newly certified magical girl could handle alone.

When someone was first chosen by the Bureau for their magical aptitude, they received an E-rank license. After completing basic training and passing the beginner’s exam, they could upgrade to D-rank.
A few months later, with experience, most were promoted to C-rank — the minimum level required to operate solo.

Reaching B-rank required passing the Bureau’s intermediate exam — a major hurdle that many failed to cross. As a result, most magical girls remained at C-rank their entire careers.

B-ranks formed the Bureau’s main regional fighting force.
A-ranks were rare elites. In all of Muxian City, there was only one — the acting team captain, Luo Anran.

For a C-rank magical girl like Kexin, facing a Gamma-class monster wasn’t a guaranteed win. The standard protocol was to hold position and wait for backup.

Still… Kexin’s official rank didn’t tell the full story. The spider was troublesome, yes — but not beyond her.

For most C-ranks, though, it would’ve been suicide. And the image of a certain person flashed through Kexin’s mind — she couldn’t bear to see the same tragedy repeat itself.

The Bureau’s directly affiliated magical girls — the ones holding the “Special Agent” title — were currently all out of the city. The team sent to the real estate tycoon’s mountain villa had encountered swarms of monsters and couldn’t withdraw.

Even if they turned back immediately, it would take them at least several dozen minutes to return.

At a time like this, if only there were another combat unit available—
Wait. Maybe there was.

“Actually, I ran into a blue-haired magical girl earlier,” Kexin said suddenly. “She seemed to be from the Bureau too, but I’ve never seen her before.”

“Blue hair?”

At the mention of blue hair, only one name came to mind — Luo Anran. She usually operated within Bureau headquarters’ jurisdiction, so everyone had at least seen her once.

As for Ye Ziyue, who lived in the same apartment complex as Kexin, she’d been deployed out west all summer, so Kexin had never met her.

But Agent Guan seemed to have a hunch.
“Was her combat outfit a bodysuit?”

“Ah… I didn’t notice.”

Kexin’s attention had been entirely drawn to the girl’s eyes earlier; she hadn’t taken in much else. And after the spider appeared, the blue-haired girl had vanished without a word.

If she had just dropped Ruolin off somewhere safe and come back to lend a hand, things would’ve been so much easier.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t happened.

Another burst of green venom came flying. Kexin flipped backward off the rooftop of a low building, narrowly avoiding it.

The liquid didn’t just corrode physical matter — it devoured mana itself, stripping away the energy that powered her shield. Taking a direct hit would be fatal.

Thankfully, the spider showed a clear “wind-up” before each spit attack — a brief pause when its movement halted.

Kexin studied its rhythm carefully, dodging the venom and widening the distance between them.

As a sniper-type magical girl, she had no interest in the kind of close-quarters brawling others enjoyed.

She needed to come up with a plan — fast.