These Tragic Souls and a Sword Reborn
in an Intergalactic Space Opera
Story Intro: "Welcome! I'm an evil god, though not that evil of a god!" is what they woke up to. Join our heroes and heroines, having just met their demise, displaced by an extradimensional event."
Story Starts
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Book 1 - The Empty Twin
Ch 2.1 Development and Delving
(Rose Lily Potter)
[Part 1 of 4]
Grakkan Empire
System: Leafil | Planet: Unnamed Pair of Theta
Date:
Grakkan Standard (GknS) | Local (Leafil) | Galactic Standard (GS)
'Revolution' / 'Prime Satellite' / 'Rotation' / 'Time'
GknS 34k6.rev-70% / 10.rev-43% / 256.rot-26% / 10:38:06
Local: 42k6.12.rev-58% / 8.rev-51% / 293.rot-21% / 07:00:00
GS 13k9.rev-47% / 8.rev-49% / 256.rot-18% / 10:01:23
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The sound of air being violently displaced followed the streak of red light as it soared—somewhat erratically, if Rose was being honest with herself—towards the target positioned some thirty metres away. A Stunner, one of the first offensive spells she'd ever truly mastered, now behaving as if she'd only learned it yesterday.
The target was—according to Shirou, her fellow redhead and apparently some manner of magical conjuration expert or something like that—traced into existence. Rose had thought at first that it was just like conjuring, though when he'd explained the process earlier that morning, detailing the seven steps he admitted he'd stumbled upon through what sounded like sheer bloody-minded stubbornness rather than formal instruction, she'd realised the crucial difference. The final key, which separated it from standard conjuration, was deceptively simple: it was a real, solid object. A permanent conjuration, unless it was deliberately dismissed. Not a temporary construct that would fade with time.
Though permanent conjuration was something that had been debated in theory, with regard to magical constructs that were essentially permanent. Was a conjuration permanent if it outlasted humanity, but finally faded into its constituent magical energies after?
But in the end, there were still the telltale signs of conjured constructs and transfigured objects—the magic shaping its form and the degradation of that magic over time. You could make it so that the degradation was so minimal it was practically invisible, but in the end, it was still a magical construct or transfiguration.
Rose had to actively turn on her mage sight—something that had been quite an important ability as an Unspeakable—to verify his claim. Sure enough, there were none of the telltale signs of slow dissipation, no gradual decay of the conjured object back into ambient mana. The target simply existed, as solid and real as if it had been carved from wood and mounted properly.
Satisfied, she let the enhanced perception fade and took in their surroundings properly. They were currently outside the Celestial Dungeon, which sat just a few kilometres away from the initial island where they'd all woken up in this bizarre new world.
The dungeon was an ivory spire that reached tens of kilometres into the sky, its surface pale and faintly luminous against the orange-hued atmosphere. Multiple peaks converged toward a single point at its apex, the whole structure tapering upward like a blade thrust into the heavens.—though according to General Knowledge, while you technically delved into a dungeon, there was no true up or down between floors. There was just the next floor; sometimes you reached a staircase that went up, sometimes it went down. This was especially true for floors that had their own biomes, where transitions could be subtle gradients or simply a straight-up cave that spat you out onto an entirely different floor.
Thoughts on whether to transfer their home base here filled Rose's mind as she lined up another attempt, raising her wand and trying to compensate for the slight drift she'd noticed. The current setup was comfortable enough, and having their home base nearby was convenient.
"Stupefy!"
Rose frowned as she watched the spell lance forward, noting how it started slightly off-centre from the tip of her wand, curving in the air before impact. Rin and Hermione's working theory was that their spells were being assisted by some higher power—whether or not it was conscious—some underlying system compensating for the fundamental changes to how magic functioned here. It was quite off-putting.
Rose had always prided herself on her control and ease with magic, and to think that, rather than control, it was probably the fact that she had a better connection with the magic in their previous reality that made things easier for her. Not that there was anything wrong with that—it was just how magic operated in their previous reality. Now there was no longer any crutch to help guide things.
Though with every attempt, Rose found herself beginning to adjust; it just required more intentional will to correct things, more conscious effort to force the magic to flow exactly as she intended rather than letting it be guided by... whatever was doing the guiding. It was like rediscovering magic again, the idea both exciting and frustrating at the same time. At this point, she estimated probably a full day of concentrated practice before she could cast reliably without the invisible assistance mucking about with her spellwork—
"Um—Rose, may I ask something?" Shirou's voice interrupted her thoughts, his tone carrying that particular quality of someone trying very hard not to seem presumptuous.
Rose could only grin at the awkward phrasing, lowering her wand. "You already asked, but I'll acquiesce to one more," she said, unable to resist the small tease.
Shirou raised an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly, clearly parsing whether she was being serious or taking the piss, but then gave her an awkward smile that crinkled the corners of his golden eyes. "Umm... the spell you're currently using is something that knocks things out, right? Renders them unconscious? I don't want to presume, but perhaps you should consider practising with something a little more... damaging?"
Rose felt the silence stretch as her brain caught up with the obvious point he was making. Of course. Bloody hell, of course that made sense.
"Oh, yeah, that actually makes perfect sense," Rose admitted, feeling a flush creep up her neck as she nervously played with her bangs, combing some of it over the part of her forehead with the scar, then tucking a stray strand behind her ear—a habit she'd picked up years ago trying to cover her famous scar, though here at least, nobody knew what it meant. "Right, we'll be clearing the floors of monsters. Best stick to deadlier spells."
"Do you have a spell that does physical damage?" Shirou asked, holding his chin thoughtfully as he moved forward. Then, with a small gesture and a whisper of "Trace on" that Rose barely caught, the previous target vanished into dispersing motes of golden light.
In its place, a full suit of plate armour materialised in mid-air—and promptly clattered to the ground with an almighty crash that made Rose wince.
"Oh—forgot you need a stand to prop it up properly. Here, use the previous target first whilst I fix this," Shirou muttered, and Rose could practically see him mentally chastising himself for the oversight.
Another circular target appeared with a gesture, but this one manifested at her four o'clock direction instead of the previous twelve o'clock position. Rose noticed immediately and had to bite back a laugh. Clearly, he didn't trust her aim yet, the cheeky bastard. Fair enough, really, given the circumstances.
Shaking her head with wry amusement, she adjusted her stance, drew her wand in a sharp arc, and focused her intent. "Diffindo!"
A cutting curse flew from her wand, silver-white and violent.
The spell flew almost true. It struck the target dead-centre, the silver-white arc of the cutting curse biting deep into the conjured wood—but Rose's satisfaction evaporated as she registered the spell continuing its trajectory downward, clipping clean through the base of the wooden stand. The entire assembly swayed precariously for a heartbeat, then toppled sideways with a muted thud, the circular target landing askew in the grass.
Clap. Clap.
The sound cut through the quiet—slow, measured, faintly amused.
"I think your aim is getting better," Shirou observed, his tone genuinely approving as he closed the distance between them. "What do you use as a frame of reference when casting?"
Rose turned, one eyebrow quirking upward in question—and paused mid-thought. Behind Shirou stood three full suits of plate armour, their polished surfaces catching the orange-hued sunlight in dull gleams. Each one had been properly mounted on a sturdy wooden stand, positioned at evenly spaced intervals. She blinked. She hadn't even noticed him finish and conjure more—tracing, she corrected herself mentally—the new targets. The man worked disturbingly fast and efficiently when he put his mind to it.
"Frame of reference?" Rose repeated, uncertain where he was going with this.
Shirou scratched at his cheek, the gesture carrying a self-conscious edge that didn't quite match his usual quiet confidence. "I'm not really all that good with theories involving mysteries—or rather, magic," he admitted, as though expecting her to judge him for the gap in formal education. "But I meant, what do you consider as the anchor point of your spellwork? The origin from which you measure everything else? Location-wise, I mean—what do you consider as the zero, zero, zero coordinate when you cast?"
Rose tilted her head, processing the question. It wasn't something she'd ever consciously considered—not in all her years learning spellwork at Hogwarts, not during her rigorous training as an Unspeakable, not even in the experimental sessions with Hermione during Project Noah. The confusion must have shown plainly on her face, because Shirou's expression shifted almost immediately into something softer—apologetic, as though he'd inadvertently asked her something impossibly complicated.
That boyishly sheepish smile appeared, the one that crinkled the corners of his golden eyes in a way Rose found oddly endearing. She'd never admit that aloud, of course, and she certainly had no intention of acting on the observation. For one thing, she had absolutely no idea what sort of relationship Shirou had with the three women who'd arrived with him. Illya was staking her claim loudly enough that the entire camp could hear it, and from the snippets of conversation Rose had caught yesterday evening, Rin was already romantically entangled with the tall redhead in some capacity.
Rose's mind immediately settled on the safest option—keeping things strictly professional between them. There was no need to complicate what was already shaping up to be an extraordinarily complicated situation, and she had enough on her plate without adding romantic entanglements to the mix. Especially when the dynamics between Shirou and his companions remained frustratingly unclear. The way Illya had practically draped herself over him last night, combined with the snippets she'd overheard about Rin's apparent involvement with the man... No, definitely better to maintain appropriate boundaries and focus on the task at hand.
"Can you try that last spell again?" Shirou's voice cut gently through her wandering thoughts, pulling her attention back to the present with an almost physical tug. His hand lifted in a smooth gesture towards the three armoured figures standing behind him like silent metal sentinels. "But this time, aim for one of them instead of the fallen target?"
Rose nodded, mentally filing away her earlier reflections for another time. She raised her wand once more, the familiar weight of the Elder Wand settling comfortably in her grip. Its surface was warm against her palm as she channelled her magic through the ancient focus. With another precise wave—the motion as natural to her as breathing after all these years—another silver-white arc burst forth from somewhere near the tip.
The spell spun once through the air, leaving a faint trail of luminescence in its wake before connecting solidly with its target. The resulting impact carved a large gash across the armour's chest plate, the metallic screech of torn steel echoing briefly through the quiet clearing. The sound made her wince slightly; it reminded her uncomfortably of nails on a chalkboard, magnified tenfold.
"Okay, so when you cast that spell," Shirou began, his tone shifting into something more patient and instructive—almost professorial, though gentler than any teacher she'd had at Hogwarts. "What do you consider the starting point?"
Rose blinked, her emerald eyes narrowing slightly as she turned the question over in her mind like examining a particularly interesting puzzle piece. It seemed straightforward enough on the surface, didn't it? The answer should be obvious. "The tip of my wand?" she answered, though her inflexion lifted at the end despite herself, turning what should have been a confident statement into an uncertain question.
She wasn't entirely certain that was the answer he was looking for—there was something in the way he'd phrased it that suggested she might be missing something fundamental. The slight furrow that appeared between his brows confirmed her suspicion that she was, indeed, overlooking something important.
"Yes, that seems logical—especially when using a focus to channel your magic," Shirou acknowledged with a small nod, his golden eyes thoughtful. Then his entire expression shifted, becoming more focused.
"But doesn't the spell actually appear a few centimetres off the centre of your wand tip?" he continued, gesturing towards where she'd just cast. "You can see it manifest in the air just beyond the wood itself, can't you?" He paused deliberately, letting that observation sink in, watching as understanding began to dawn in her eyes. "So if it's already appearing away from the physical wand... doesn't that mean it can technically manifest from anywhere you will it to? Anywhere you direct your intent and focus?"
Rose frowned, her mind racing as she processed this new perspective. That was... actually correct, wasn't it? When she really thought about it, when she conjured something or summoned an object, the origin of the magic didn't technically start at the tip of her wand. The wand was merely the conduit, the focusing tool—the magic itself came from her, from her core, and manifested wherever she directed it. She'd just never consciously considered the implications of that fact before. It was one of those things that had become so automatic, so ingrained in her casting, that she'd never stopped to examine the mechanics underlying it.
The realisation felt oddly profound, like discovering she'd been doing something the hard way for years without realising there was a simpler approach.
"For me, coordinate zero, zero, zero is basically the centre of my body," Shirou explained, his hand moving through the air in front of him as if trying to catch an invisible fly. But as his fingers clasped around seemingly empty space, an eastern-looking white short sword suddenly materialised in his grip, the metal singing softly as it came into existence. The blade gleamed pristinely in the morning light, its surface so perfectly polished it seemed to glow from within. The casual ease with which he'd manifested it—no wand, no lengthy incantation, just pure will made manifest—made Rose's breath catch slightly. "Anything within reach of any part of my body is almost second nature."
"And with that as a frame of reference," Shirou continued—and this time there wasn't even the gesture or his usual two-word incantation she'd heard him use before. Instead, two swords simply appeared, floating just above his head as if suspended by invisible wires. They bobbed slightly in the air, moving with an almost organic fluidity that suggested they were extensions of his own body, but they always maintained a fixed position relative to him, their tips facing the same direction he was. The display of control was mesmerising, and Rose found herself leaning forward slightly, utterly captivated by the demonstration.
Shirou then turned smoothly towards the three knight armours, one of which already bore the large gash from her earlier spell. The moment his attention shifted, the two blades floating above him suddenly shot forward with explosive speed, moving so fast they cracked the air itself. They embedded themselves deeply into the two previously undamaged armours with twin metallic shrieks, the impact sending reverberations through the metal that Rose could feel resonating in her bones even from several metres away.
"And if you get used to it more, then you can estimate the distance from coordinate zero, zero, zero and actualise mysteries from afar," Shirou added matter-of-factly, as though what he'd just demonstrated was perfectly ordinary. As if to punctuate his point, several more blades materialised directly above the armoured figures—not near him, but metres away—appearing from thin air with soft chimes before plunging downward in perfect synchronisation. They impaled the practice dummies with surgical precision, each blade finding its mark flawlessly, turning the once-pristine suits of armour into thoroughly skewered metallic pincushions.
Rose was genuinely shocked at the sheer casualness with which Shirou was achieving this level of magical manipulation. Even considering the concept of 'Conceptual Crossover'—which theoretically meant this type of magic could be accessible to her if she put in the effort to learn it—the idea of casting without a focus, without her wand, seemed almost revolutionary.
No, she corrected herself mentally as she watched another blade appear and strike true. It wasn't just the wandless aspect that impressed her, though that was remarkable enough. It was the entire framework of thinking about magic in spatial terms, treating reality as a coordinate system where she could be the origin point. It was so fundamentally different from how she'd been taught at Hogwarts, where everything was about the wand movement, the pronunciation, the specific mental state required for each spell.
Whenever she heard Shirou, Rin, and Illya discussing magic—she hadn't really talked much to Sakura yet, though the quiet woman seemed pleasant enough—their approach was frankly scientific in nature. They broke down mysteries into components, analysed spell structures like mathematical equations, treated magic as something that could be understood through systematic study and reproducible principles rather than just intuition, practice, and traditional instruction.
It was simultaneously foreign and oddly familiar. Foreign because it was so different from the Hogwarts method, but familiar because it reminded her of how Hermione had always approached magic—with that same analytical rigor, that same insistence on understanding the underlying principles rather than just memorising the steps.
Maybe that was why Hermione had pushed so insistently that she'd room with Rin last night. Her best friend had probably recognised something in their methodology that resonated deeply with her own analytical mind, saw an opportunity to learn an entirely different paradigm of magical theory.
"Though I'm not sure about your particular focus," Shirou continued, his gaze drifting briefly to the Elder Wand still held loosely in her hand, "as it seems to have the aspect of death as part of its concept, but not necess—"
Shirou's words cut off abruptly mid-sentence, a sudden blush colouring his cheeks as he looked away from her with almost comical haste. His gaze fixed on something past her shoulder, and the relief that washed across his features was so obvious it would have been amusing under different circumstances. "Oh, they're back!"
Without waiting for a response—or perhaps deliberately avoiding the opportunity for her to ask the sudden change in demeanour—Shirou moved towards the large contingent that had just arrived. Rose could see elves, centaurs, and goblins aboard a fleet of flying carpets and brooms, along with several of the other members of their thirteen. She noted that Hermione, Rin, and Sakura weren't among them. They must still be back at the base camp, probably engaged in their own research or preparations for the upcoming dungeon dive.
Though as Shirou moved away, there was something in his gait—a certain quickness to his steps, a deliberate focus on the arriving group—that suggested he was escaping from an uncomfortable topic rather than simply greeting the newcomers enthusiastically.
Rose suddenly froze, her entire body going rigid as realisation crashed over her like a bucket of ice water. Her gaze turned sharply to follow Shirou's retreating form, her mind racing through the brief exchange they'd just had.
"…"
"…"
'How did Shirou learn about her wand's connection with death?' The thought blazed through her consciousness with alarming clarity, demanding immediate attention. She hadn't mentioned it to him. She was absolutely certain of that. The Elder Wand's nature—its reputation as the Deathstick, its connection to the Deathly Hallows, its bloody history—wasn't something she advertised casually, not even to allies she trusted.
So how could he possibly know? Had he not been able to research it, unless there was an equivalent analogue in their reality. Also they'd only been in this reality for a day, and there was no reason for information about their version of Earth's magical artefacts to exist in this galaxy. Had he... analysed it somehow? With that Structural Analysis ability, she'd heard Rin mention yesterday? But could that really reveal conceptual properties like death affinity?
Blink. Blink. Blink.
After a long moment of internal debate, Rose forced herself to relax, her shoulders dropping as she consciously released the tension. She'd ask him about it later, when they had a moment alone and away from the bustle of preparation. Getting worked up about it now wouldn't accomplish anything, and they had more immediate concerns to address.
For now, she turned back to face the thoroughly destroyed practice targets, her mind already working through how to apply Shirou's advice to her own magical framework. The concept of establishing a personal coordinate system was genuinely intriguing, and she could already see potential applications—particularly now that their magic was no longer being guided by whatever underlying system had assisted their casting back home. Without that invisible crutch, being able to establish her own reference points could be crucial for maintaining accuracy in combat situations.
After all, they'd be dungeon delving soon—sooner than any of them had initially expected, actually. They'd thought it would take at least a few days to locate the Celestial Dungeon that their prophetic hint had referenced, planning to use that search time for training and preparation back at the base camp.
But they'd located it almost embarrassingly quickly this morning—sheer dumb luck, really. A spire tens of kilometres tall wasn't exactly subtle. Within hours of beginning their exploratory survey of the surrounding area, they'd found it and confirmed what it was. A towering spire of crystalline material jutted up from the landscape just a few kilometres from their initial landing site, impossible to miss once you know where to look.
What better way to learn than on the job? It had been Ryuu's suggestion to begin delving immediately rather than waiting, backed enthusiastically by Shirou—who, whilst lacking dungeon delving experience himself, had extensive combat experience from his previous life—and Rose had to admit there was merit to the idea. Practical application often taught lessons that pure theory never could.
They just had to be careful. Both Marin and Haruka lacked significant combat experience, their backgrounds being civilian rather than martial, and according to the group's preliminary assessment last night, Sakura fell into a similar category despite her involvement with magic since childhood. The last thing they needed was someone getting seriously injured—or worse—on what was supposed to be a controlled learning experience on the upper floors.
"Hé, Rose!" Gabrielle's voice called out, drawing her attention and pulling her from her strategic considerations. The platinum blonde was approaching with Illya at her side, her face forming a question as her gaze swept over the armoured practice dummies now thoroughly skewered by Shirou's conjured swords. The suits looked like they'd lost a fight with a particularly aggressive porcupine.
Beside Gabrielle, Illya's crimson eyes were wide with undisguised awe as she took in the pale spire of the dungeon looming in the distance. Its ivory surface caught the orange-tinted sunlight in ways that made it seem almost luminous, as though the structure itself was gently glowing from within. Against the deep blue of the sky and the massive green-tinged orb of Theta hanging behind it, the spire looked almost ethereal—a blade of light thrust up from the hilltop and into the heavens.
Whilst everyone bustled about making final preparations for their first dungeon dive—checking equipment, organising supplies, establishing buddy systems for the less experienced members—Rose found herself explaining Shirou's zero, zero, zero coordinate concept to her companions. Gabrielle listened with genuine interest rather than mere politeness; like Rose, she was grappling with the loss of their magic's automatic guidance, and the idea of establishing a personal spatial framework clearly appealed to her as a potential solution.
Illya, however, despite her initial distraction with the dungeon's mesmerising appearance, quickly became thoroughly engaged in the discussion. She offered her own insights on how to generally apply the spatial coordinate system in tandem with the actualisation of magic.
"The key is consistency," Illya added, her crimson eyes bright with intellectual engagement. "If your origin point shifts unconsciously—say, from your core to your wand tip depending on the spell—your spatial calculations become unreliable. Better to pick one and train yourself to use it exclusively, at least until the framework becomes instinctive."
The petite woman's understanding of magical theory was genuinely impressive—far more sophisticated than her youthful appearance might suggest—and Rose found herself grateful for the additional perspective as she worked through the mental adjustments that would be needed to implement this new approach effectively.
Perhaps this collaboration between their different magical traditions would prove more valuable than any of them had initially anticipated. Especially now that they were all working without the invisible assistance they'd taken for granted.
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END