Chapter 40: Magical Girl and Superhero

“This frequency? Seriously?” Jiang Lingwei muttered. “What’s in my little Mudong City?”

Flying to the coffee shop’s upper floor, she peered through the window. Wen Yaquan, “asleep” inside, and… who was that girl?

She recalled seeing her before, now with Jiang Yao. Wen Yaquan’s daughter?

From this angle, they looked alike, but the girl was far quieter than her mother.

Sister Quan’s wild energy—closing her eyes softened her, but still. If born in the Wild West, she’d be the fiercest cowgirl boss.

Hard to imagine this “bandit” doctor birthed such a calm kid. Her husband must’ve balanced her out.

‘Then I…’

‘Ugh, why do I keep thinking about myself?!’

Shaking her head, Jiang Lingwei raised her staff, its pink heart-shaped gem releasing a light ball to shield Wen Yaquan and the girl. Her magic dipped, but her heart eased.

Calculating the light ball’s drain, she assessed the situation.

The rain and clouds formed a low-intensity magical field, likely temporary.

‘Not targeting civilians, just knocking them out. They’ll be weak on waking. Hope no nightmares.’

Fewer rescues meant less pressure.

In just over a minute, she watched Jiang Yao, transformed as [Crystal], sprint out the door. Instead of joining her, Jiang Lingwei flew to a sturdier building, kicked off the roof’s edge, and soared toward flames in the distance.

Her magic and time were scarce. Even flying’s cost was too much.

Any help mattered.

Taking down the giant wasn’t her priority—she had bigger tasks.

Weaving between buildings, she got a clear view of the shadow.

A humanoid mass of steel—pots, knives, computer cases, even a life-sized alloy-skeleton “wife” with an agile, eerie form, its mouth silently screaming before being swallowed by the metal torrent.

Not a robot, but a clunky, patchwork junk heap.

It lumbered down a wider road. Late at night, with low traffic, drivers likely fled or hid. No injuries or deaths visible.

Focusing magic in her eyes, Jiang Lingwei scanned. Only crushed, empty cars, absorbed into the giant’s stylish steel feet.

Without lingering, she reached the burning building, using shadows for cover.

In superhero movies, civilians seemed disposable—existing to get in trouble, die, or be saved by heroes. Superheroes were busy; if you saw one, great. If not, tough luck.

Some watched as villains wrecked their freshly paid-off car or home.

Who understands that pain?

In comics, heroes rarely saved civilians while fighting villains. Practical—stop the villain, or more suffer later.

But Jiang Lingwei and her team weren’t superheroes.

They were magical girls.

Shielding her face from rain, she eyed the partially collapsed building, hit by the iron giant. A gas leak’s stench explained the fire.

“Gas explosion? In Mudong City? Tch.” It felt like 2012, or a month ago for her.

While comrades fought, she saved civilians.

It was back.

Only now, with no spare magic for protection, she dove into the fire.

Flames seared her spirit outfit and skin; smoke stung her eyes. Jiang Lingwei smiled.

“Come on.”

She found two unconscious people. Though they couldn’t hear, she said, “Come with me, you’ll be fine.”

“Trust me.”

Hoisting them, she formed a light film, flew to a supermarket across the street, kicked through its glass wall, and set them inside.

Checking them, their injuries were minor—unconscious from the field’s suppression. No healing needed.

Left in the fire, they’d have burned.

“How many left?” Glancing at the building, she tried her phone in the rain. Waterproof, but no fire department connection.

Boom!

The ground shook. A purple light—Jiang Yao’s [Crystal]—pierced the dark, clashing with the shadow.

“Good.” Jiang Lingwei muttered. “Two, good girl, keep it up. I’ll be quick.”

Time ticked, magic drained.

“Five, everyone’s safe.”

“Ten, I’m Magical Girl [Aurora], here to protect you.”

“Twenty-five, wow, still in overalls. What a coincidence.”

“Huh… Fifty-three… No, sorry, fifty-two. He didn’t make it.”

Though unheard, she comforted each soul.

On the top floor, the roof was gone, debris strewn. A bloodied man lay under the rain.

“Number seventy-three. Last one, looks like.”

Stepping forward, she reached for him.

Shing!

A silver blade sliced through the rain, like lightning, aimed at the defenseless, low-magic [Aurora].

“…Oh.”

A chuckle echoed in the rain.

Truly defenseless?