AN: Welcome to this week's last update.
For this chapter and the next one, while it is still patching some more gaps for the foundations, it will now go in the direction before the action.
So more people will show and fill those gaps, and most of them are for the future progress of this fic.
Then, without further ado, see you next week!
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Non-Administrated World #97, Star Rail Universe…
'Sii! Hachan! Let's go on a date!!'
"…That," March said with a casual shrug, "was what Noah said before he escaped his Heir duties with Sirin-chan and Hayate-chan."
She was explaining to the younger Aces and the Wolkenritter where Noah, Sirin, Hayate, and Reinforce Zwei had gone.
"…"
"???"
The living room of the crew's rented apartment fell into a strange silence.
Nanoha-chan blinked slowly, as if her mind had accepted every word separately but refused to arrange them into one proper sentence.
Fate-chan looked just as lost, though her confusion was different. She tilted her head and glanced toward Hayate-chan, then toward the Wolkenritter, as if checking whether anyone else understood what mission category "date" belonged to.
Hayate-chan, on the other hand, turned red instantly.
"M-my older self… went on a date with Noah-san?" she asked in a small voice.
"With Sirin-chan too?" Shamal added, one hand resting against her cheek.
Vita slammed both hands on the table. "That's not a date! That's called running away!"
March pointed at her immediately. "Exactly! That's what I said!"
Caelus leaned back on the sofa, arms behind his head. "To be fair, he spent three days drowning in inheritance paperwork. Calling it a date was probably his survival instinct begging for help."
Welt, seated near the window with a cup of tea, adjusted his glasses. "A rather dramatic description, but not entirely wrong."
Dan Heng looked up from the copied documents on the table. "He still has several sections of the Peverell inheritance to review."
Caelus winced. "Don't say that too loudly. He might sense it and flee to another country."
March's expression turned serious as she looked at Nanoha-chan and Fate-chan.
"Nanoha-chan, Fate-chan, Hayate-chan," she said seriously, "that inheritance defeated Noah."
Nanoha-chan's eyes widened. "Defeated?"
"He dropped his head on the table and asked Miss Himeko to hit him with the train if he ever said 'inheritance management' again."
Hayate-chan covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. "That sounds… really bad."
"It was tragic," Caelus said solemnly. "The brave captain of Trailblaze fell against documents."
Vita frowned and crossed her arms. "That sounds stupid."
"It is," March replied. "And that's what makes it so terrifyingly funny."
Himeko, who had been pouring coffee near the kitchen counter, finally smiled and set the pot down.
"Still, I was the one who let him go."
Everyone turned toward her.
March blinked. "Eh? Really?"
"Yes. He needed it." Himeko nodded.
She picked up her cup and walked back toward the table.
"Noah has been working too much again," she said. "The inheritance, Voldemort's movements, Dormammu's trace, the safety of the civilians, the Greengrasses, the Potters, the old contracts… He has been trying to hold all of it at once."
Welt closed his eyes behind his glasses. Understanding dawned in his expression.
"And his patience has been wearing thin." Himeko continued.
Caelus' expression changed at that, and March stopped smiling. Even the Aces and Wolkenritter fell silent.
"Is Noah-san… angry?" Hayate-chan looked at Himeko carefully.
"No. Not angry," Himeko answered honestly. "Annoyed. Very annoyed. He is just trying not to show most of it."
That answer felt heavier than the jokes before it.
Himeko took a sip of her coffee before speaking again. "Noah is gentle by nature. But being gentle does not mean he can't feel frustration. If he keeps forcing himself to stay calm while watching innocent people suffer, then sooner or later, he will stop restraining himself."
Vita crossed her arms, though her expression had lost its earlier sharpness. "Would that be bad? Those masked cowards deserve it."
"They do," Caelus answered seriously.
Himeko looked at him, which made Caelus immediately become very interested in the floorboards. The worst part was that Himeko did not scold him. Somehow, that made the atmosphere feel even heavier.
"I do agree with you," Himeko said. "But Noah cannot become a blade swung only by anger. If he reaches that point, he may not simply defeat the Death Eaters."
Her eyes softened.
"He will erase them."
Nanoha-chan's fingers tightened around her skirt. Fate-chan looked down, and Hayate-chan's face went pale. The Wolkenritter exchanged a glance. Signum, especially, seemed to understand how grave those words were.
Then a certain memory came back to them. When Noah was talking to the Will of Mars back in the Sol reformation, and it had chosen to fight, refusing to cooperate with them, Noah almost broke the planet with a single attack after he became frustrated with it.
"So… you let him go with Sirin-chan and Hayate-chan so he could breathe," March concluded.
"Yes," Himeko said. "Sirin understands his emotions. Hayate knows how to soften it. And Rein would help him laugh."
"So the date was actually psychological treatment." Caelus looked toward the door and let out a heavy sigh.
March deadpanned at him. "...That somehow makes it sound less romantic."
"But not wrong." Caelus shrugs.
Hayate-chan's face turned red again, though the embarrassment felt softer this time. "Older me… can do that?"
"I believe so." Himeko smiled at her.
"That sounds like you, Hayate-chan." Shamal gently touched Hayate-chan's shoulder.
Hayate-chan looked down, embarrassed but strangely happy.
Vita mumbled with a pout, "Still sounds like running away."
March grinned again. "It is. But apparently, it is a medically approved escape."
"Therapeutic retreat." Dan Heng, without looking up, added.
"That one sounds official!" March and Caelus snapped their fingers.
Himeko laughed softly behind her cup, and everyone in the room finally relaxed. The younger Aces smiled, the Wolkenritter relaxed, and even Welt allowed himself to hum in peace.
Then the communication terminal rang. Everyone looked toward it in surprise. No one had expected a call at this hour.
"…Did Noah sense we were talking about him?" March blinked.
"With him? I can't even deny that," Caelus said with an amused snort. "But calling after escaping would be both funny and brave of him."
Nanoha-chan looked between them and the terminal. "…Can he really do that?"
"Knowing his abilities?" March said. "I can't dismiss it easily."
Hayate-chan gave a small, nervous laugh. "Maybe older me is calling to say they'll be late?"
"If that's true, then this really is a date." Vita crossed her arms.
"Vita-chan," Shamal said softly, though she looked amused too.
"Let's see who it is first." Welt set his cup down and answered the call.
Damien Greengrass appeared on the holoscreen. He was using the terminal Noah had given to the Greengrasses so they could contact the crew directly.
But from how he looked, something about him was wrong. His face was pale.
Welt, Himeko, and the others exchanged quick looks.
"Lord Greengrass, is something wrong?" Himeko addressed him carefully.
"You look pale," Welt added with a small nod. "Did something happen?"
Damien took a breath. Even through the screen, it was clear he was trying to keep his voice under control.
"Mr. Yang, Lady Himeko," he said. "Is Lord Peverell with you?"
"No. He stepped out with Sirin and Hayate. What happened?" Welt raised his brow.
Damien's jaw tightened. "There has been another attack."
The room tensed at once. The joke from a moment ago vanished completely. Nanoha-chan's eyes went wide. Fate-chan reached over and held her hand, while Hayate-chan's smile disappeared.
"Where?" Himeko asked quickly.
"Marchbanks Estate, along with several light and gray-sided houses," Damien answered. "From what we know, Lord Elias Marchbanks, a senior Wizengamot member, spoke against the recent attacks in yesterday's session."
"They attacked him because he spoke against them?" Dan Heng frowned.
"Yes," Damien said. "The Death Eaters breached the wards. The family survived, but they were severely injured, and their manor was burned to the ground."
He stopped for a second and took another breath to relax. "A Dark Mark was left above the house."
That was when the room truly changed. Welt's eyes darkened behind his glasses. Caelus' hands curled against his knees. March looked down for a brief second before raising her eyes again, the softness in them replaced by anger she was trying hard to control.
"Lord Charlus believes this was the Dark Lord sending a message to everyone," Damien continued, his voice heavier now. "The attack in Diagon Alley may have failed, but they can still reach others whenever they choose."
"So old Voldy sent a reminder that no one is safe," Caelus said, his eyes narrowing as he understood the implication. "Bastard."
"Crude wording aside, Caelus is correct," Dan Heng said with a nod. "This is Voldemort's way of announcing that he can still act freely."
Damien's expression tightened. "Yes. And it is also a warning. Anyone who speaks against him can be made an example."
"...I'll call Noah." March reached for her phone.
"No," Himeko said.
"Eh?"
"Mom?"
March stopped and turned toward her; even Caelus looked surprised.
Himeko's eyes remained on Damien's image on the screen. "Noah left because he needed a break. Calling him now with incomplete information will only drag him back into his tensed state before we know what needs to be done."
"But people were attacked," Vita said, her small hands tightening into fists.
"I know," Himeko replied gently. "That is why we cannot respond with panic."
Everyone turned toward her.
Himeko looked back at the screen. "Lord Greengrass, please send us everything you have. Exact locations, number of injured, details of the attacks, the Ministry's response, and whether any of the families need help with evacuation."
Damien seemed to pull himself together at Himeko's words. "Understood. I will forward the reports now."
Welt nodded, approving the decision. "We need a clear picture before acting."
Dan Heng added, "Understanding the attackers' pattern can help us prepare a proper response for future incidents."
March lowered her communicator slowly, though worry remained in her eyes. "So… we gather everything first, then tell Noah?"
Himeko nodded. "Yes. Once he, Sirin, and Hayate come back, we give them facts, not panic."
"That's probably better." Caelus leaned back slightly, his jaw tight.
"Noah is already close to losing patience. If we throw panic at him now, he may hear only one thing." Himeko's expression softened, but her voice remained firm.
"That people were hurt…" Nanoha-chan looked up to Himeko and the others.
"Yes," Himeko said. "And if that is all he hears, then we may have a wrathful sun ready to burn everything in front of him."
Everyone understood what she meant.
"Then… we should prepare before they return." Hayate-chan looked down at her hands.
"Exactly." Himeko smiled faintly at her.
"We can help organize support anytime." Fate raised her hands.
Nanoha nodded. "And help with healing, if needed."
"I can assist with medical treatment." Shamal placed a hand to her chest.
"Vita and I can prepare defenses in case there is another attack," Signum added.
Zafira gave a silent nod supporting the plan.
March looked at Himeko again, then took a breath and straightened. "Okay. Then I'll help collect and sort the reports."
Caelus rolled his shoulders, the anger in his face cooling down. "And I'll get ready to move once we know where to counterattack."
Himeko looked around the room, making sure everyone understood.
"Good. Noah gets a day to breathe. And we will use that time wisely."
The communication terminal remained open, Damien's grim face waiting on the other side. The joke about Noah's date had faded now.
But Himeko did not let the room fall into fear.
—--
A few hours ago at Marchbanks Estate…
The day had passed normally, at least during the first half. Lord Elias Marchbanks sat in his study with a cup of untouched tea beside him and several Ministry reports spread across his desk.
Every sentence was polite and careful. And somehow, none of them said anything useful.
He had spent the previous day in the Wizengamot arguing that the Ministry could no longer pretend the attacks were isolated incidents. People were afraid. Families were whispering. Muggle-born households were already moving at night, old pure-blood families were locking their gates, and those in the middle were waiting to see which side would survive longer.
Cowards called that caution.
Elias called it surrender.
He set the report down and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"You are going to read a hole through that parchment," his wife said from the sofa near the fireplace.
Elias looked up.
Helena Marchbanks sat with her embroidery resting on her lap, though she had not made a single stitch in nearly half an hour. Her eyes had been on him the whole time.
"I almost wish I could," Elias replied. "Perhaps then I would find an actual decision inside it."
Helena gave him a small smile. "You frightened half the chamber yesterday."
"Good."
"That was not praise."
"I will accept it as one."
Her smile faded slightly. "Elias."
He knew that tone, so he leaned back in his chair and let out a tired sigh. "I know."
"They will not like being challenged."
"No tyrant does."
"I am not speaking about tyrants in general."
He looked toward the window. The grounds outside were dark and peaceful, protected by the family wards that had watched over Marchbanks Estate for generations.
"I know," he said again.
Helena studied him for a long moment, then stood and crossed the room. She stopped beside his chair and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"What you did was brave," she said softly. "But brave men still need to take care of themselves."
Elias reached up and covered her hand with his own.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then the estate wards reacted. Elias went still. Something hostile had touched the edge of their home's protections. No, it was several presences.
Helena's hand tightened on his shoulder. "Dear…"
Elias was already on his feet, wand in hand.
"Take the children."
Helena did not ask questions. Her face paled, but she moved at once, gathering her robes as she hurried toward the door.
"And you?" she asked.
"I'll hold them off."
That made her stop for half a heartbeat. Only half a heartbeat, then she nodded and left.
A small house-elf appeared beside the desk with a frightened pop, ears pressed flat against his head.
"Master Elias! Bad men came! They are trying to break the wards!"
Elias turned to him. "Pip. Go with Helena. Take the children to the safe room. Do not open the passage for anyone unless she orders it."
The house-elf trembled, but he bowed so low his long nose nearly touched the floor.
"Yes, Master Elias. Pip will protect the young masters and misses."
"Good."
The elf vanished.
Elias turned toward the window, and the darkness beyond the gate moved. A tall figure stood there. He had not Apparated like his followers. He was simply there, as if the darkness itself had opened a door and let him through. Behind him, the Death Eaters waited in silence.
Elias felt his throat tighten the moment the figure at the gate raised his wand.
Lord Voldemort.
The name passed through his mind colder than fear itself.
The defensive wards reacted before Voldemort could cast. Protections were activated across the estate, sensing the threat beyond the gate. Runes burned blue-white along the boundary stones.
For a moment, Marchbanks Estate looked untouchable.
Voldemort looked up at the barrier.
"How proud," he said softly.
He raised his wand. And without incantation or theatrical gesture. Only a thin line of sickly green light touched the wards. The first protective layer cracked. Inside the manor, every window trembled. Elias felt the impact through the floorboards.
"That should not be possible," he whispered.
The second protective ward was activated, stronger than the first. Old family magic held against the intrusion with all the dignity of a house that had survived for centuries.
Voldemort tilted his head, and the green light from his wand twisted.
The blue ward blackened at the edges before it burst apart. The manor groaned as if something had driven a knife into its bones. Down the hall, Helena's voice called out urgently, ordering the children to move.
Elias ran until he reached the central staircase just as the final protection around the estate began to fail. Portraits shouted warnings from their frames. Doors slammed shut on their own. The old wooden banister lit with thin golden runes, answering the final commands of the house.
"Seal the east wing!" Elias shouted.
The manor obeyed. Heavy doors swung closed. Hidden locks clicked into place. Protective charms flared along the corridor leading to the children's rooms.
Then the last ward broke.
For one terrible second, there was only silence. Then a blasting curse tore open the main doors.
Smoke and splintered wood rushed into the entrance hall. The first curse came before the dust cleared, striking the wall beside Elias and scattering shards of stone across the floor.
Elias raised his wand.
"Protego Maxima!"
The shield charm appeared just in time as three curses struck at once. His body trembled under the force, but he held on.
A masked wizard laughed from beyond the smoke. "Still standing, old man?"
"I have survived worse guests." Elias' eyes hardened.
He pointed his wand upward.
The chandelier above the hall snapped loose, but it did not fall. Instead, it twisted, metal and crystal bending into a cage that slammed down around two Death Eaters. Another sweep of Elias' wand sent a long table crashing sideways, knocking one masked attacker off his feet.
For a moment, the manor fought with him.
Portraits screamed directions. Doors sealed. Defensive runes lit along the staircase. A suit of decorative armor stepped from its alcove and swung a rusted sword at the nearest Death Eater.
But there were too many enemies. A curse shattered the armor. Another blasted the table apart. Black fire crawled over the carpet, eating through old family patterns stitch by stitch.
Then a cold voice entered the hall.
"Enough."
Every Death Eater stopped.
The smoke parted as Voldemort walked through the ruined doorway. The black fire crawled away from his robes as if even it knew better than to touch him.
Elias felt the cold of his presence before Voldemort even looked at him. Those red eyes moved across the hall, passing over the broken defenses, the burning carpet, the portraits trying to flee into nearby frames, and finally Elias, standing on the staircase.
"Lord Marchbanks," Voldemort said. "I heard you spoke very bravely yesterday."
Elias kept his wand raised. His arm ached. His breathing was rough, but he forced his voice to remain firm.
"If you came all this way to compliment me, you could have sent an owl."
Several Death Eaters stiffened.
Voldemort smiled with amusement and contempt.
"Bravery is often praised by those who do not understand its cost."
"I understand it well enough," Elias replied.
Voldemort said nothing; he only looked at Elias coldly, then lifted his wand.
Elias summoned his family magic at once, forming the strongest protection he could around himself.
The spell hit. And the moment, Elias felt the magic scream. Then the barrier shattered like glass and sent him down the stairs.
He hit the floor hard, pain tearing through his shoulder. His wand rolled across the marble, stopping near a fallen portrait frame.
A masked witch stepped on his wrist before he could reach it.
"You should have remained silent," she whispered.
Elias looked up through blood and dust.
"…You people should… have learned shame."
Her wand snapped toward him.
"...Crucio."
Pain swallowed him, but Elias did not scream. He refused to give them that satisfaction.
And true to the nature of Death Eaters, they did not fight like soldiers. They fought like privileged cowards hiding behind masks. They shattered windows, burned curtains, cursed family portraits, and laughed as the manor tried to defend itself room by room.
Voldemort watched from the entrance hall. He did not need to do more, and that was the point. Everyone would know he had come. Everyone would know the wards had fallen because he touched them.
Elias lay on the floor, breathing in broken pieces. His body still shook from the curse, but his eyes remained open.
Voldemort approached him, and the Death Eaters parted without a word.
"You wanted the Ministry to act," Voldemort said. "You wanted old families to stop hiding. You wanted them to show courage and oppose us."
He looked around the burning hall. "So I will use you to send a message."
Elias forced himself to smile despite everything.
"A-Ahaha… L-looks like…you can still feel fear," he said between the pain.
The manor went silent as Voldemort's smile thinned.
Elias coughed, but his voice remained clear enough. "Y-you… would not need those stupid masks… marks, and burning homes… if you were not."
For the first time that night, Voldemort's expression changed. It may be only a little, but it was enough for every Death Eater to stand still.
He pointed his wand at Elias, but before he could fire a spell, an explosion shook the east wing, making him stop.
A Death Eater turned toward the sound. "My Lord, the room is sealed. The elf is strengthening it from inside."
Voldemort stared at Elias for another second before turning away. "Leave it."
"My Lord?" The Death Eater hesitated.
"Leave it," Voldemort repeated, cold enough to make the masked wizard flinch. "Let them live."
Elias' eyes widened as Voldemort glanced back at him. "Terror speaks louder when survivors remain to tell the story."
He walked away. "Burn the manor."
The Death Eaters obeyed. Fire climbed the walls. The old Marchbanks portraits screamed as flames ate their frames. The defensive runes died one by one. Somewhere upstairs, Elias' family held each other in the dark and did not make a sound.
Elias was left in the center of the ruined hall, barely alive.
Outside, Voldemort raised his wand toward the night sky.
"Morsmordre."
Green light shot upward. Above the burning estate, a skull formed in the clouds, a serpent spilling from its mouth.
The Dark Mark.
By the time the first responders arrived, the Death Eaters were gone. Marchbanks Estate had become ruins. The family had survived, but the scar left by that night would not be forgotten easily.
And above it all, the Dark Mark remained in the sky, reminding every witch and wizard who saw it of one simple truth.
The Dark Lord did not need to win every battle. He only needed the world to believe he could reach them anywhere.
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