The outskirts, still that same school, the same classroom, Jiang Yao landed on the ground hugging Sha Chong.
The marks from the previous battle here remained perfectly intact.
Now she felt that shattering the window back then was indeed a good idea. At the very least, now she could just carry Sha Chong and stride boldly into the room.
Otherwise, in this troublesome situation, she would have had to make a detour.
Now Jiang Yao had a vague feeling that things might really not be so simple.
There must have been other things that happened to Sha Chong.
That was the real reason her personality had changed a bit.
Still, she did bear some responsibility—thinking about it more deeply, Jiang Yao truly felt guilty toward Sha Chong.
Because not much time had passed, and although the window was still shattered, the classroom wasn’t too messy. Aside from the big hole in the floor left by that tentacle ambush, there were only the traces of dust balls exploding in the corners.
Maybe it was because there was no window now, and the wind was stronger, so most of the dust had been blown out toward the door.
The reason she came here also had to do with Jiang Yao herself.
This was the safest place she could think of.
Because that ugly thing beneath the school had just died not long ago. Even if there were other dark monsters still alive—ones that, like the Brain Monster, had survived from the beginning of the Dark Calamity up to now—
There was no way they could react so quickly and come to seize the Brain Monster’s territory.
Besides, the Brain Monster was truly disgusting. Jiang Yao figured it was hard to say whether any other monster would even want to come here.
Moreover, she suspected that the Brain Monster had been in a dormant state all this time, not active.
That would explain why it had only just been discovered now, and why its illusions and character settings were all such ancient gal game tropes.
The innocent junior girl, the blonde twin-tailed tsundere, and of course a gentle male lead to match.
Come on, it’s already 2032.
Those things have been outdated for ages.
These days, people are into way more abstract stuff.
Things like the Hundred-Man-Slaying Gyaru and the Supreme Turtle Man, or the trope where everyone else has physical relationships, but only you and I are pure, so you can’t touch my body—those kinds of b*tchy setups.
Even if you want to do illusions, at least use something that matches modern tastes.
But joking aside, the monster’s end was still too easy.
It was simply burned alive by Aurora’s Light Magic—a death far too painless.
Just seeing those dark red stains under the fallen leaves, and the splattered red all along the corridor, Jiang Yao could imagine the students’ wails before.
They wouldn’t even leave behind bones—only the hot blood that spattered and became imprinted in the walls, uneaten by monsters, left behind as the only silent cry after that tragedy.
(Yes, yes, I should’ve crushed that monster more viciously from the start.)
(Burn it at the stake, impale it with a stick! Slice it to pieces!)
(Otherwise, how could I ever make up for… )
(Uuuhhhhh!)
Hugging Sha Chong, Jiang Yao shook her head hard, quickly banishing those frightening thoughts.
Better not to stir up negative emotions carelessly—it always seemed to have a big rebound.
That feeling of utter indulgence might feel good, but it also meant losing control.
Jiang Yao didn’t like it.
After killing that Brain Monster, the school had returned to its former peace. Hopefully, the spirits of those children would find some comfort in this news.
“Sha Chong-senpai, can you hear me?”
She walked around, not finding a good spot to set Sha Chong down. Jiang Yao could only keep holding her and spoke up:
“So, there’s nobody here except you and me. I just want to talk to you.”
Sha Chong didn’t react, her lips tightly closed.
But those eyes clearly showed she had something to say.
This made Jiang Yao feel even stranger.
Sha Chong obviously wanted to say something, and Jiang Yao could even see her face turning red from holding it in.
But why wouldn’t she speak up?
Just as she was pondering, a possibility suddenly occurred to her.
(Could it be… no way…)
She didn’t dare use negative emotions, and just spoke in as cold a voice as she could:
“I order you to speak.”
“Al—alright.”
Sha Chong spoke at last, replying cautiously.
(Not that?!)
Now it was Jiang Yao’s turn to feel a bit unhinged.
(This is way too weird! I don’t want this kind of ‘play’!)
(Who switched Sha Chong to this mode?)
Just as she was starting to lose it, reinforcements arrived on the scene.
A streak of light cut across the sky, and the pink-haired Magical Girl made her dazzling entrance.
“I’m here.”
Aurora the Magical Girl had barely landed before she turned to Jiang Yao and said:
“How’s it going? Ah.”
Jiang Lingwei forgot to put on her act, and quickly added, “Ahem, well, I saw you and Opal on my way over. I thought something was off about this Magical Girl’s condition, so I came to check.”
“No.”
Jiang Yao grew more and more certain that Aurora was her mother.
She had just messaged her, and Aurora showed up right away.
No coincidence could be that coincidental.
Only, Aurora had come at the worst possible time.
Still, she had to let Aurora check Sha Chong’s condition, Jiang Yao sighed inwardly, turning slightly to show Jiang Lingwei what Sha Chong looked like.
“?”
After seeing the tall girl’s state, Jiang Lingwei was not the first person today to pop a question mark over her head.
But she was definitely the most baffled of all.
Seeing the disheveled Sha Chong in Jiang Yao’s arms, with a huge patch of cloth missing from her chest and only a bra barely covering her, anyone would be dumbfounded.
Not to mention Sha Chong’s face was still flushed red (from holding it in just now).
“Uh…”
Jiang Lingwei looked at Sha Chong, then at Jiang Yao, glancing back and forth between the two.
“It wasn’t me!”
Jiang Yao couldn’t stand it, blurting out.
“It wasn’t you?”
Jiang Lingwei had just relaxed when Jiang Yao, a bit embarrassed, said:
“Well, now that I think about it, I guess it really was me.”
“??? ”
“Um, um, I’ll explain later. Aurora, can you check what’s going on with Sha Chong first?”
Actually, before she finished speaking, Sha Chong had already flipped to her feet, clutching her chest as she stood in front of Jiang Lingwei.
“Please wait a moment.”
For this Magical Girl with serious inner issues, though the cause was still unknown, Jiang Lingwei felt this couldn’t be rushed.
Problems with the “heart,” in Jiang Lingwei’s experience, had one vital feature: a Magical Girl had to have suffered great pain.
Ordinary setbacks and failures couldn’t bring a Magical Girl down.
It had to be pain—real, harrowing pain.
Only then could the bearers of Light Magic and hope fall into such a state.
To truly understand, and even try to help her out of it—a task likely to fail even after trying—Jiang Lingwei could only proceed step by step, slowly and carefully.
Without saying any unnecessary words, she pointed her wand at the classroom: “Clean and fresh.”
Then, just like last time, all the dirt and grime gathered into a corner under the flow of magic. Jiang Lingwei even noticed the mud on Sha Chong and included it as well.
“Ah!”
“Hm?”
(What’s wrong?)
As soon as the spell was cast, Jiang Lingwei heard Sha Chong let out a small squeal.
She thought something had gone wrong.
Had she made a mistake? Impossible.
Clean and fresh was a mature spell, not some wishful, purely conceptual thing—it had real logic.
Besides, she was a top-tier Magical Girl with maxed-out housekeeping skills, always using these basic abilities. How could anything go wrong?
But… if she was fine, then why did she sense fear coming from Sha Chong?
Glancing at Jiang Yao, who stood guiltily with her lips pursed, poking her fingers together, Jiang Lingwei figured her own child probably had a lot to do with this—and a lot to answer for.