Chapter 672: Heavenly Demon (9)
I stared at the magical ward analysis Luna had helped piece together, hardly believing what we’d discovered. After days of her guiding my understanding of the magical construct, we’d finally found it—a critical flaw in the ward’s construction that could be exploited.
‘The anchor points aren’t perfectly synchronized,’ Luna explained in my mind, her knowledge of ancient magical theory proving invaluable. ‘There’s a brief mont during the ward’s renewal cycle where the binding weakens. If you can ti a disruption correctly…’
‘How long do we have?’ I asked.
‘Approximately thirty-seven seconds when the ward cycles. More than enough ti to get the little one past the boundary—assuming you can handle the magical requirents.’
The ward that had seed impenetrable just days ago now had a clear vulnerability. But exploiting it would require precise magical timing and a level of power manipulation I wasn’t entirely confident I possessed.
“Arthur?” Luna’s voice pulled from my magical theorizing. “You look different today. Are you okay?”
I looked up from my notes to find her watching with those too-perceptive dark eyes. She was sitting at her small table, but instead of drawing random pictures, she had what appeared to be architectural plans spread out in front of her.
Plans? “What are you working on there?”
Her face lit up with excitent. “It’s our house! The one we’re going to live in when we leave here.” She gestured eagerly for to co look. “I’ve been planning it for days.”
I moved to stand behind her chair, looking down at what was indeed a remarkably detailed floor plan drawn in colored pencil. The layout showed a modest two-story house with careful attention to practical details—kitchen, living room, bedrooms, even a small garden space.
‘She’s been planning our future.’ The realization hit harder than it should have.
“This is your room,” Luna explained, pointing to a large bedroom on the second floor. “And this is mine, right next to yours so I won’t be scared at night. And this”—she indicated a slightly smaller room across the hall—”is for Cordelia, because she’s part of our family too.”
Our family. She’d not only been planning for and herself, but had automatically included Reika in her dostic fantasy.
‘Look at that,’ Luna the qilin observed with obvious amusent. ‘The little one’s already planning your dostic life together. She’s more organized than you are.’
“And see this?” Luna continued, her excitent building. “The kitchen has a big window so we can see the garden while we cook. And there’s a reading corner in the living room where you can read to . And the garden has space for butterflies and flowers and maybe even a tree we could climb.”
I studied the drawing more carefully, noting details I’d missed initially. She’d included mundane necessities like bathrooms and closets, but also thoughtful touches like a “art room” where she could draw and a “thinking spot” that appeared to be a window seat with cushions.
“Luna,” I said carefully, “this is very detailed. Where did you learn about house layouts?”
“From the books you brought ,” she said proudly. “So of them had pictures of houses, and I studied them really carefully. I wanted to make sure our house would have everything we need to be happy.”
Everything we need to be happy. Such a simple goal from soone who’d never experienced happiness in any aningful way.
The original plan flashed through my mind—extract the Heavenly Demon clone, use her power for my own purposes, prevent the catastrophic future described in the Saga. Luna had been ant to be a tool, a weapon I could wield against greater threats.
‘And now look at you,’ Luna the qilin comnted with gentle amusent. ‘Planning to build her a house with a butterfly garden. You’ve gone completely soft, Arthur.’
‘She’s not a weapon anymore,’ I admitted to myself. ‘She’s just a little girl who wants a house with a garden and a family to love her.’
The transformation in my thinking was complete now, I realized. Sowhere over the past week, my mission objectives had fundantally shifted. I was no longer planning to extract an asset—I was planning to save a little girl.
The thought still felt surreal. I was nineteen years old, barely an adult myself, yet here I was developing paternal instincts for a child who called by my first na and drew pictures of our future ho.
‘Age is just a number when it cos to caring about soone,’ Luna the qilin observed. ‘You’re more mature than most adults, Arthur. And that little girl needs soone who will put her first.’
“Arthur?” Luna’s voice carried a note of uncertainty. “Do you like the house? I can change things if you want different rooms or—”
“It’s perfect,” I interrupted, my voice rougher than intended. “Absolutely perfect.”
The relief on her face was palpable. “Really? You think we’ll be happy there?”
We. Always we, never just her. This child who’d been raised in isolation was incapable of imagining happiness that didn’t include the people she’d co to love.
“I think we’ll be very happy,” I assured her.
For the next hour, Luna walked through every detail of her planned house. Where we’d put furniture, how the garden would be laid out, what colors she wanted to paint the rooms. She’d thought through practical considerations like proximity to schools and shops, but also emotional ones like making sure the living room was arranged so the family could spend ti together.
‘She’s nesting,’ I realized. ‘This is a child preparing for the family life she’s never had.’
When our session ended, I found myself holding Luna’s house plans with the sa careful reverence I’d shown her first drawing. This wasn’t just artwork—it was a blueprint for the life she wanted to build with us.
Walking back to our quarters, I reflected on how completely my priorities had changed. The analytical part of my mind could still recite the original mission paraters, but those felt distant and irrelevant now. What mattered was the drawing in my hands and the child who’d created it.
I’m going to give her that house, I decided. Sohow, so way, she’s going to get her garden and her reading corner and her family.
I found Reika waiting in our quarters with her own collection of reports and data files. She looked up when I entered, and I saw sothing shift in her expression when she noticed the drawing in my hands.
“Another picture?” she asked, though her tone suggested she already knew it was sothing more significant.
“House plans,” I said, spreading Luna’s drawing on our table. “She’s been designing the ho she wants us to share.”
Reika leaned over to examine the layout, and I watched her face soften as she took in the details. When she reached the room labeled “Cordelia’s Room,” she inhaled sharply.
“She included ,” Reika said quietly. “She planned a room for .”
“She considers you part of the family,” I confird. “Has from the beginning, I think.”
We stood there in silence, both studying a child’s vision of dostic happiness. Finally, Reika spoke again.
“Arthur… what are we doing?”
The question was loaded with implications. What are we doing falling in love with a child we ca here to extract? What are we doing planning a future that has nothing to do with our original objectives? What are we doing pretending we could be parents when we’re barely adults ourselves?
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I ca here planning to use her power, to extract her as an asset. But now…”
“Now she’s drawing us house plans and calling us family,” Reika finished.
“Are you having second thoughts?” I asked, studying her expression carefully.
Reika was quiet for a long mont, her fingers tracing the outline of the garden Luna had drawn. When she finally spoke, her voice was firm.
“No. If anything, I’m more committed than ever.” She looked up at , and I saw determination in her eyes. “That little girl deserves the life she’s planning. She deserves parents who will love her, not use her.”
Parents. There it was, the word neither of us had quite been willing to say out loud.
“We’re nineteen and twenty-one,” I pointed out. “We’re children ourselves in many ways. And I have four other girlfriends.”
“So?.” Reika’s expression grew thoughtful. “Age doesn’t determine whether you can love a child, Arthur. And Luna needs love more than she needs anything else. I’m sure the four of them will also understand”
She was right, of course. Luna’s needs were emotional, not practical. She needed stability, affection, and the security of knowing she was wanted for who she was rather than what she could do.
“The ward has a vulnerability,” I said abruptly, shifting focus back to practical matters before I got too lost in dostic fantasies. “Luna helped understand the magical construct’s weakness.”
Reika’s deanor imdiately sharpened. “What kind of vulnerability?”
“There’s a brief mont during the ward’s renewal cycle where the binding weakens. Luna—” I gestured vaguely at my head, indicating my qilin companion “—says it’s a common flaw in wards of this complexity. Thirty-seven seconds where the magical barrier becos perable.”
“Tell her about the power requirents,” Luna reminded .
“The downside is that exploiting it requires precise magical timing and significant power. I’ll need to channel a disruption spell at exactly the right mont.”
“And the neural implants?”
“Those are actually easier. I can hack the control system remotely and initiate a safe shutdown sequence. The implants will power down gradually rather than shutting off all at once.”
I spread out my own technical diagrams alongside Luna’s house plans. The contrast was stark—cold engineering schematics next to a child’s loving vision of ho.
“When?” Reika asked simply.
“Soon. Cardinal Akasha returns in three days, maybe less. If we’re going to do this, it has to be before then.”
Reika nodded, studying both sets of plans. “Then we’d better make sure everything goes perfectly. Luna’s counting on us.”
Luna’s counting on us. The weight of that responsibility settled on my shoulders, but it didn’t feel crushing. If anything, it felt purposeful. For the first ti since arriving at this facility, I had a goal that mattered more than strategic objectives or mission paraters.
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