Chapter 51: The Idols of a Fading Era

Magical girls were the heroes of this world. It was commonplace to revere those hailed as heroes, to idolize the girls gracing the screens. To view heroes as idols, to emulate and admire them, was inherently unobjectionable. The true issue, however, lay elsewhere…

Yet, imperceptibly, the very essence of these heroic girls began to subtly shift.

With the embers of war cooling and the world finally embracing a fragile peace, magical girls were no longer compelled to put their lives on the line. The days of battling monstrous beasts and clashing with shadowy organizations were gone. Their duties now amounted to little more than apprehending common criminals during routine patrols.

Consequently, the world seemed to have outgrown its need for heroes.

Across media, television, and the internet, magical girls continued to appear, to remain active. However, their roles had subtly shifted, transforming from the venerated figures whose grand achievements and profound sacrifices were once meticulously chronicled, into something altogether different…

No longer was the focus on their accomplishments or combat prowess. Instead, the emphasis had shifted to their physical attractiveness, the dazzling spectacle of their abilities, the charm of their voices and personalities, and the distinctiveness of their public personas—a transformation akin to a talent competition.

Despite having once saved the world, magical girls still commanded the privileges of heroes. The Magical Girl Organization retained control over the wartime allocation of resources, and the identity of a magical girl still represented a significant leap in social standing. Yet, beneath this veneer—

The girls on screen had shed the very framework of heroism, slowly morphing into mere idols.

Aike, a journalist, abhorred this evolution. It was her deep admiration for magical girls, for their heroic essence, that had first inspired her to pursue a career in journalism.

To interact with these extraordinary girls—these beautiful, diverse magical girls, each with unique personalities, vibrant appearances, and distinct charms—and to truly experience their heroic grandeur had been her lifelong aspiration. Yet, her brief foray into the world of photography had failed to materialize this dream, leaving her instead with profound self-doubt.

Upon finally encountering the magical girls she had long revered, Aike was disillusioned. She discovered that even the dazzling figures glorified in books harbored a myriad of flaws, that their distinct personalities and spectacular entrances were often meticulously crafted by publicists, and that many of these seemingly amiable and charming girls secretly disdained ordinary people like herself. Even their vaunted heroic deeds, she learned, were largely elaborate scripts, complete with precisely framed shots and perfectly rehearsed pronouncements.

‘Do heroes truly exist?’

In her short career behind the lens, she hadn’t witnessed a single one.

Profoundly disillusioned by these revelations, she ultimately abandoned her stable position in a bustling metropolis, cast aside her credentials as a graduate of a prestigious university, and ventured alone to this secluded, provincial town. Here, in this unassuming town, she became a rookie reporter—even taking on the role of photographer herself, a necessity born from a meager budget that precluded hiring additional staff.

Her sole motivation: this was one of the rare places in the world where a dark organization might still lurk. It was also among the exceedingly few locales where genuine crises might unfold, compelling magical girls to intervene. Perhaps here, she might finally encounter the figures she had once idolized, witness the scenes she had so fervently anticipated.

Just as her passion threatened to be extinguished by the monotony of daily assignments, just as she teetered on the brink of abandoning her dream, Aike, immersed in these thoughts, finally encountered the rift.

Beneath a sky churning into a lead-gray vortex, people shrieked, trembled, and fled, scattering in terror from the monsters and the looming specter of death descending from the heavens. Only she remained steadfast.

She had waited for this moment for an eternity, forsaking a comfortable desk job to become a frontline reporter, abandoning the conveniences of city life for a potential war zone—all for this precise instant, for this very day. A dark organization had emerged; the villains who ought to be vanquished by heroes now stood before her. Monsters had descended; the calamities that heroes should repel now plummeted to the earth. The stage for a heroic entrance was perfectly set. So where, then, were the heroes she so desperately anticipated?

Even as her body trembled with the primal fear of death, she refused to retreat. Instead, she stood defiantly, stubbornly, knowing her demise was imminent, yet capturing every unfolding horror with her lens.

Yet, what descended before her, what pulled her back from the precipice of death, was not the hero she had envisioned. Instead, it was a girl who, by all accounts, ought to have been branded a villain. A magical girl, who proclaimed herself a combatant of the Dark Organization.

The Magical Girl Organization had declared her a wayward magical girl who had seen the error of her ways and broken free from the Dark Organization’s control. But Aike, the sole eyewitness, knew with certainty that there was no trace of confusion or vacantness in the girl’s eyes. That resolute gaze was unequivocally not that of someone under duress; it was the look of a decision forged from within.

Furthermore, considering their recent encounter in the restaurant, the magical girl—a heroic figure herself—had actually affirmed the audacious claim that magical girls were no longer necessary. Perhaps she was indeed a member of the Dark Organization, or at the very least, she perceived herself as one.

If the so-called heroic magical girls diverged so sharply from their public portrayals, then what of their adversaries, the Dark Organization? This was no longer about a dream; it was a simple, unadorned quest for knowledge, fueled by a competitive spirit. If the heroes chronicled for vanquishing darkness were themselves no longer virtuous, then what had become of the darkness they had supposedly defeated?

Aike found herself compelled to uncover the truth, and so, she drove, following the retreating figures of the girl and the officer.

Was it a stroke of luck or a twist of fate? It seemed that whenever Aike yielded to her impulsive heart, she invariably stumbled upon monumental stories that would invariably ignite the internet.

The Dark Organization had appeared, launching an assault on an entire Allied convoy—a force powerful enough to decimate a city—leaving it utterly defenseless and on the brink of annihilation. Yet, in this dire hour of near-total destruction, the saviors of the Allied forces were none other than the very magical girls they held in such contempt and abhorrence.

Ling Xing, a magical girl who paradoxically claimed allegiance to the Dark Organization, intervened. She plunged into a fierce battle against the very Dark Organization members who should have been her allies, rescuing the very soldiers who had once spouted such arrogant boasts. She declared herself a villain, yet consistently stepped forward to halt the atrocities committed by other villains. She loathed magical girls and attacked the Magical Girl Organization, yet she embodied Aike’s ideal of a heroic magical girl more profoundly than anyone else. Her actions were utterly contradictory, yet she performed them with an unsettling naturalness.

Was she, as the Magical Girl Organization proclaimed, a magical girl of inherently good nature who had broken free from control? Or was she, as she herself asserted, a combatant of the Dark Organization, one who committed wicked deeds and wrought dire consequences?

As a journalist, Aike felt it was her imperative to unearth the truth. She ought to interview them, question them, understand them—but how would she even begin to phrase her inquiries?

Aike was deep in thought when two light taps on her car window abruptly shattered her contemplation.

“Yo—Miss Reporter.”

Ling Xing’s cheerful, impish face pressed against the car window, and she gave a light, quick rap on the frame.

“You’ve certainly had a long, arduous journey following me. If it’s on your way, would you mind giving me a lift?”

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