This, as many younger folk would say, really sucks.

I am again trapped in my room, now that training has finished for the day. A full day spent creating all of the up and coming warriors who are currently destroying my own home.

Still nothing to do except sit in bed, hope I can fall asleep soon, and attempt as well as I can to help stop the invasion.

However... It’s already too late.

My dreams now are spent mostly in hiding, as Mestopholees sent me into the deepest corners of South Spire before the U.S. military could fully capture it. From what I know on the news now, she has surrendered and the New Slayers now work as enforcers. She has been crowned regent, a puppet leader of a vassal state to head the transition to “democracy,” whatever that means. I am quite unfamiliar with the term, to be honest. It appears to be something involving a large group of people, common folk even, letting their voice be heard to choose not only the King, but all of the King’s top lords.

If “democracy” were truly ever brought to Mystix, I could only ever see disaster arising. How could one count the votes of so many people, even the foolish ones? Knowing America’s history according to Delta and Francis, it appears that the system has already completely failed the U.S. anyway. We must retain our strong, The Goddess-given monarchies.

However, there is nothing I can do to help at the moment. With my near-useless ghost, my foolhardy actions that helped Rare make their ultimate move, and my captivity here on Earth, I am simply unable to do anything.

But that has been a common occurrence for an extremely long time now. I am sure that you tire of hearing of such misery just as I have grown far past the point of bearing it myself.

Let me, then, try harder to sleep so that I may bring you more exciting news from the continuing destruction of Mystix that I watch from afar in my hidden spot in South Spire.

Perhaps I will find out more about Rare, who disappeared as soon as they returned to Mystix along with the U.S. military. Their whereabouts are as unknown to the world as mine, but they do not appear to be leading the Anti-Mages anymore, who act more as scattered pockets of resistance than the mighty army they once constituted.

It’s tragic, somewhat. I do not wish harm on my sibling, even if they committed truly idiotic acts that have jeopardized the future of our entire world. After all, I myself have done exactly that on many an occasion, especially when I was the fearsome Amaranth. That I cannot remember it does not mean that I bear no responsibility.

If fate bears it so, perhaps I will even meet Rare tonight in my ghostly form. We will reconcile and then turn our attention to saving everyone as quickly as we can. It may be impossible, as all of Mystix’s strongest defenders may not be able to overwhelm the sheer force of numbers that the U.S. military brings, but—

Eh?

What was that?

A rattling sound from outside my room, as if there was some sort of scuffle. I am no longer heavily guarded, for my power level was long ago matched or even exceeded by the very soldiers I helped to train into prominence. But my nightly events are still done with the door sealed, and I cannot leave without requesting permission. After all this time, they do not trust me—or they treat me the same as all other system users. Despite everything, I hope it is the former.

Still, that rattling is quite annoying. Won’t it go away?

Then, suddenly, it does.

The door slides open.

A well-muscled, lightly bearded young man with a chipper smile and a large backpack enters, greeting me as warmly as any human ever has.

“Aren’t you a little short for a soldier?” I ask with that trademark American sarcasm.

“My name is Francis Bacall, and I’m here to rescue you,” he says.

He’s here.

He’s actually here, and also managed to suppress his emotional link with me just to surprise me. It seems we have both grown in power greatly these past months.

“Time to escape, then,” I say. “Let us go forth.”