Disclaimer:

Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha is the creative property of Seven Arcs, whom created this wonderful anime/manga series. Anything not attributed to Seven Arcs belongs to their respective owners, such as other series, references, and vice-versa. This story is written purely just for fun, guys; please for God's sake, don't sue me! I'm just a college student with too much free time on his hands! On the other hand, any specific author created characters I created for this fic (despite how unoriginal they may be at times) are mine. So without further ado, let's get on with the show!

The Surgeon General's Warning:

Read at your own risk.

Mahou Shounen Enforcer Chrono!

Before Lyrical

Entry 1.10:

Gear Up / Move Out

A Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Nanoha AU fanfic by James "Ray" Edwards

"He's late," I muttered with some mild consternation, eyeing the glowing numerals on my PDA, before pocketing it away.

The electronics was a necessary evil in my busy lifestyle: taking twenty-two hours of course credits for a semester is no joke, mind you. My intention is that the extra coursework and summer classes should make up for my off-season enrollment, not to mention get all of my compulsory education requirements out of the way. Then, with all of that out of the way, I plan to level off at sixteen hours or so for the remainder of my education, and focus more on subjects within my field of expertise, leaving room to explore useful or otherwise interesting disciplines.

Wasting an hour and a half in the freezing cold, accompanied by an exponentially irate Ryuune Zoldark, was not my idea of fun. Time was a precious commodity, and I scarce had any room for indulgent recreation, when I needed to be studying, training, or taking care of my basic bodily needs. The fact my blonde-haired compatriot was "complaining" up a storm did not help.

"Harlaown," she breathed, dangerously, making me want to slap myself for suggesting that she come along in the first place.

"Once more, I apologize, but the situation..." I began to explain for seemingly the umpteenth time.

You see, Ryuune had not taken too kindly to my improvised paraphrase of my intentions: flushing bright neon pink, her power of speech robbed from her in a stupefied splutter. I tried to clarify, once I wrestled control of my faculties away from my more impulsive, "manly" mien that seemed to rise up without my consent, especially when I least expect and steal "the show". It was a blessing and a curse, though at the time, I think it more the former, as the Corellian hellcat attacked me wildly. A shrill girlish shriek upon her lips, flinging obscenities and perverse accusations that would make a veteran Mandalorian blush!

How I tried to explain to her that I meant the phrase in a purely platonic fashion, but...well, she did not stop, until she was too delirious to put up a good fight. Battered and scandalized, I was forced to carry her out piggyback style, under extreme duress from curious regulars at the gym, and haul her to the nearest medical clinic for I felt the situation was beyond me, professionally. However, as an afterthought, I left her a note with instructions on "when-where" to meet me should she decide to come along, and some advice to dress "warm".

Come along she did, and here we are loitering in a shady secluded back alley, far from prying eyes, and freezing our shebs off in the dead of night, like a pair of credit-a-score thugs. I did not even know such a decrepit quarter existed on the base, but here we were in the dead of night, and not a soul in sight. The buildings were silent hulks, most in need of renovation, with the overwhelming visage of the Tower of Bavel leering over them, akin to a unhappy, chastising governess over her charges.

"I have an exam on Tuesday, ya big di'kut!"

"...so do I, for we share many of the same classes."

"And you're making me lose sleep over this?"

"Zoldark, we can study together..."

"I swear, this had better not be your dumbass idea of a practical pranky hanky joke, or I'll-!"

"There is still Sunday and Monday..." I know, it is obvious she is not listening to me, but: "try, try again," so they say.

"Sith's blood! Why do we have to take all these compulsory education classes, anyways? Isn't learning magic, how to kill the enemy smarter, and stuff all we really need to know?"

"Well..." I began an explanation that I assumed was right on the tip of my tongue.

Imagine my embarrassment, when I drew a complete blank on the subject, wearing a wide-eyed dumbfounded expression, right before the expectant scowl of Ryuune Zoldark. Her scowl turned into a black, condescending sniff, as she assumed a mocking, arrogant pose befitting a highborn lady: arms akimbo on her hips, chin up, and face turned away for I was beneath her. The effect was somewhat ruined by the fact we were both in our camouflage utilities, bundled up in trenchcoat and scarves to stay warm.

Honestly, it was not fair that I was at fault. I never even gave the nature of my education any thought prior to now, and simply, accepted it as a necessity. I was to be a commissioned officer; therefore, I assumed I ought to be more "intelligent" than the average enlisted man for the sake of, well, I think...distinction? Besides, the course work is necessary to earn magus certifications. Then you would be granted access to spell protocols (more commonly referred to as just "Spells") compiled in the Bureau's vast illustrious compendium of magicks, The Liber Goetia, or granted permission to create new spell protocols at your discretion.

Later, your very own spells could be submitted for review, and possibly added to the Goetia as a lasting contribution to all mages; your legacy; your mark on history. After all, the Goetia is much more than just a grimoire. It is a record of...

"Ha ha! Please, my Lord and Lady, allow this lowly puck to attend to thine asking," chortled a familiar lilting voice in his accustomed histrionic tones.

My thoughts, though, would have to wait yet again, thanks to the untimely intervention of the "man of the hour." With the grace of an actor, he stepped out from behind the shadow of a nearby dumpster, his footfalls enviably silent against the pavement. Nagi Dai Artai, pale orchid irises seemingly glittering, and the white pallor of his albino skin aglow; he seemed more spirit than mortal, a glorious, haunting apparition appearing out of nowhere.

"If magic can defined as performing an impossible act at a certain period of time by means that could be achieved as well by scientific methods, barring time constraints, capital, and/or urgency, then this definition suits, perfectly, the humble majesty of Modern Mid-Childa Cogito Logica Congoscere Magice Ergo Dominari Systaema. Loosely translated in plebian vernacular: to think, to know in logic therefore the system of sorcery I rule. Magical Devices, Artificial Intelligences, Virtual Intelligences, the brilliance of mortal minds given substance in technology, immortalized in spell protocols, mana purifiers, mana coefficient boosters, artificial magic circuits, mana condensers...everything!"

Ryuune and even myself gaped in the enormity of the revelation. Everything he had just revealed to us, the hints were already there in our textbooks, but the clever devil had beaten us to the punchline by putting everything together in a poignant package. It was no big secret that Nagi, bathing with glee in the light of glory of the moment, basked in his instant superiority over us; I could see it, and certainly, did my companion.

"Serves only one purpose, for all wizards and witches alike to exploit and control the one resource, the power exclusive to our kind alone: magic. It is that tight, regulated system of control that makes the Mid-Childa System great, and vastly, superior to its many cousins, sisters, and predecessors, for it is a system that all the people can learn and master. It makes it possible that the lowly proletariat, a genius of hard work can defeat even the great magus, a natural-born genius, seemingly god-like and untouchable."

To clarify from his colorful rhetoric: he means that a C-ranked mage can best a S-ranked mage in battle.

"If you understand the mechanics, the processes of a 'Spell' better than your enemy, than surely the chance of victory exists, no matter how slim, no matter how difficult, before the overwhelming force of their inexplicable might. That is why you receive this education now for knowledge is power. Of course, putting that power to practice is a different story. Every individual has his or her own way of fighting, and magic may not always be the answer. Something as simple as a blaster bolt to the head, a well-placed word, a precious thing misplaced, a savory bite laced in sweet poison, a silver stiletto between the ribs, and so on: the ends justifies the means. Victory."

It was a sobering moment...

"But, of course," he smiled good-naturedly, "all of this talk of mine pales in comparison to true magick, ancient magick: the power to create miracles! In that fantastic realm, all rhyme and reason are kicked to the curb. We are at the mercy of belief and the magic. Dangerous ground we tread; holy, sanctified, and sacred; forbidden to us lowly, selfish mortals. Understand, you do, yes, my Lord and Lady?"

By the Stars, these thunderstruck bombshells of enlightenment need to stop happening so often. The timing was horrible, especially in the wake everything I have experienced. More questions than answers, as if I was the fool who had opened up some accursed "Pandora's Box", but in this case, there was no tangible beacon of hope to be found. My only choice in the matter was to suck it up, file the intrigues away for later thought, and keep "soldiering" on.

On the other hand, Ryuune Zoldark who had no inklings of such grand burdens, a freer heart, and a quicker temper had more tangible concerns in mind:

"Okay, okay! That lecture was, yeah, great and all, but answer me this: who the flaming blazes are you? and what good reason do I got not to beat the crap out of you, huh?"

I sighed, feeling a headache coming on, "Zoldark, he's..."

"Neither enemy nor friend, at least to thee, mi'lady," Nagi courted the obvious danger of provoking the Corellian girl with all the eagerness of a brave fool. "But, to mi'lord, this one be the truest, cleverest, most indispensible puck anywhere around, and never better the friend!"

"...Rrrrr, Harlaown, just who is this pasty white whacko, huh? 'Cos, I'm about to break his face."

"Ugh, for Mystra's sake, Zoldark, he is my-"

"The Fool," the pale prince of the north answered for me.

If I was a "man" of lesser patience, I might have been insulted by his "insufferable" timing. However, having spent nearly every day with Nagi Dai Artai until recently, I had come to understand his taste for the dramatic. I wish, only, that I was not subject to witness the "glorious" work of his "magic of words", under the present circumstances.

Ryuune went rigid. Not because of fear; not because of awe in the name she recognized as Atlas's most favored and thrice-blessed "information broker" (for I imagine he bought and sold, much more than that); her feelings were something else, and plain as day, smoldering in her bright blue eyes.

Rage.

"O-kay...now, I'm really, really gonna break your face. You. Me. We got bad blood to settle, Artai!"

"Hahaha, how just like my expectations of you, my dear, ku ku ku."

I sighed, inwardly. I should have known Nagi's shady dealings would, in some way, have an adverse effect on the Corellian girl, though likely an indirect consequence he must have known about long before this confrontation came upon his doorstep.

"Zoldark, if you want to break his face, save it for some other time, please? This scoundrel is my roommate, aide, contact, and sponsor, Nagi Dai Artai. You met him once before, though as of late he has disappeared conveniently from my sight and from our classes. He will be our ticket to get into The Coliseum, tonight; thus, if you intend to see this venture through, stay your hand."

"Ah, this one is honored by Heroic Chrono's words!" the little puck was positively basking in glee, liken to a smug cat being showered with affection from his "owner".

Ryuune scoffed, her disgust punctuated by the protesting curl of leather-gloved hands balling into tight fists, "Fine. I'll be sure to wipe that sick smile of your pasty white face, when we're third years, Artai. You'll get what's coming to ya; mark my words!"

"Peace, peace. We are wasting time. Nagi, are we ready to depart?"

"Ah, pardon the delay, but there is one more piece of business we need to take care of. Just a moment!"

My jaw joined my mutual Corellian colleague in going slack, gaping in shock, as the bombastic, the sardonic, the devilish, the "Great" Nagi Dai Artai went --- dumpster diving. Unlatching the lid of the near dumpster he had emerged from behind of just moments ago, the albino boy dove in with great gusto, uttering a hysterical whoop. No words can describe the absurdity, as we watched him, dumbstruck, rummage around in the "horrors" that lay within that green metallic confine, his feet kicking up in the air like a diver.

And finally, we were rewarded with a shrill cry of "EUREKA!", his visible boot-clad feet spasmed terribly so.

Ryuune was the first to regain her voice, a touch disappointed, "I'd never thunk it that the big bad, mean, scum licking snob of a bastard was a pack rat."

"I never knew either," I confessed to her, more in wonder than anything, "I seem to learn something new about him every time."

"This puck can hear thine conspiracy, mi'lord and lady!" he called back jovially, startling us.

Naturally, we had the good sense to be embarrassed. Speaking ill of another and being caught by the said target of your mockery does tend to spark that sort of reaction.

"But never mind that: pull me out!"

There was dead silence.

"I'm stuck, and I can't get out!"

He is what?!

"I mean it. Pull me, pull me, pull me out! I'll cry if you don't pull me out. I'll cry! And I'll cry! And cry! And-"

"Alright, alright, alright! We got it. Just shut up, and stop kicking," snapped Ryuune, looking positively beet red and scandalized.

Lending a hand to someone you threatened with bodily harm moments ago is rather ludicrous, but here she was, forced to eat her own menace. I found it humorous, quite.

"Hey, what're you spacing out for, Harlaown? You're helpin' too, so get over here and put your back into it!"

Perhaps, I thought too soon?

"Yes, Ma'am."

Despite the simplicity of our task, it took a surprising amount of "heaving and ho-ing" to haul Nagi out of the dumpster. The situation I believe was compounded, mostly, by our lack of leverage, a comical remainder of our still immature bodies. Now, I see something to Ryuune's logic in demanding I help as well, though I imagine she "asked" only because she did not want to do all the lifting and pull by herself, while I reaped the benefits of her selflessness scot-free.

A moment later, we were rewarded by a chortling Nagi Dai Artai, whom was attached to a black duffle bag almost too big for him. Thankfully, he acquired no outrageous odors from the dumpster, and was free, miraculously, of any filth. Come to think of it, even his "prize" was in mint condition and had no stench either, as if it had been placed there only recently.

Did it mean someone had planted the bag here earlier, and if so, for whom to find and why?

"Well, you're one happy sonuvagun, Artai," Ryuune eyed the albino boy, as he snuggled lovingly against the duffle bag, embracing it liken to a long lost pet. Her bright blue eyes tempered with suspicion. "Wha'cha got in there? Lunaweed? Death sticks?"

Nagi laughed her grave accusations off, despite the serious judicial repercussions they held, "Nothing of the sort, mi'lady! The business of narcotics is for little-minded entrepreneurs and thugs. My area of expertise is far grander than that tiny stage, and an indispensible service I am, yes I am, to all of my clients."

I watched on without a word, as he set down the duffel and procured what appeared to be a matching set of dull metallic bracers and greaves, a belt, and a crossbody belt of similar make to the waist-worn belt. At a glance, they seemed perfectly ordinary, with no immediately distinguishing features or the like that would give them away as anything else besides common every day items. However, looks can be deceiving...

"Heroic Chrono, I give thee: the M4760A1 Power Belt, a wonderful Weapon Device for novices, veterans, and civilians alike! And do not fret, for this is the same hardware the wookie possesses as well. Though, I believe you would benefit much more so from the A4 model, considering the vast physical divide between yourself and he."

Ryuune's eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets, as she stared in a mixture of shock and disgust, between myself and Nagi. I imagine, she never expected me to be part of his clientele, which I was not, officially. Our relationship was closer to that of a performer and a manager, with the boy from the north having taken an interest in me from the beginning whereas I would have preferred to be left in anonymity. ...except I needed him now.

She probably would not believe me, but I ought to try to clear my name of her wild assumptions before she misunderstands any further, "Before you assume anything worse, Zoldark, I am trusting you not to speak of this."

"Idiot," the blonde-haired girl snorted at me, with a derisive sniff, "I'm already guilty by association by being here with you. No way I can report both of you clowns without looking bad myself. Besides, I don't snitch. I break heads, got it? Doesn't matter where you run, where you hide; I'll be there, and I'll make you you'll wish you never came crawling out of your mama."

"Ooo, feisty-feisty!" Nagi giggled at her menacing statement, "that's Miss Cool and Spicy, Ryuune Zoldark, for you, Heroic Chrono."

At that point in time, I think Nagi Dai Artai was the first person in the galaxy who had the "balls" to brush off a threat from Ryuune Zoldark. He was probably the only one who got away with it too, by association with me.

"Watch it, fairy boy. Just, watch it, 'cos I don't care how necessary you are to everyone else. You don't mean jack to me, and when I'm done with you, hell, let 'em come. We'll see who's the real soldiers around here."

"Please, can you two stop antagonizing each other?" I sighed helplessly, feeling like some out of luck baby sitter, "the night is not over yet, and I still have a lot to do."

"Yes, yes! It as you say, Heroic Chrono. Please, allow this puck to arm thee, mi'lord!"

Ryuune rolled her eyes at Nagi's theatrical groveling, but held her peace otherwise.

She was content to watch as the albino boy rather enthusiastically "helped" to remove my trench coat for me, though it felt closer to an assault on my person. "Arming" myself was fairly straightforward, despite the fact the weapon device was intended originally for an adult user. Thanks to modern magi-tech, advanced metallurgy, and a "one size fits all" design mentality, the bracers and greaves "recalibrated" to fit my child body, literally morphing in shape to provide the best protection, while the belt pieces adjust accordingly so. The entire process was completely automatic, needing only a conscious "thought input" from myself, once the weapon device "registered" me as a compatible user: the requisite being having an active Linker Core and functioning Magical Circuits sufficient to power the device.

With that said, I suppose, I should explain what a Weapon Device is: like its namesake, it is a magical device fashioned as a weapon, simple yet elegant. They come in many shapes and purposes, rifles and staves for example, running the full gamut of power and effectiveness, but are all inherently self-limiting. How so? Unlike Intelligent Devices or Storage Devices, Weapon Devices cannot be installed with new "Spells" nor can they be used to create new spell protocols. Also, Weapon Devices have varying "Mana Requirements"; therefore, there is a limit to how many Weapon Devices a mage can use simultaneously, not to mention who would have access to them.

Ultimately, they are explicit weapons of war, and are designed to use their pre-installed spell protocols (or "Functions") to maximum efficiency. To compensate for this shortcoming, most modern Weapon Devices feature the capability to be tweaked or modified on the fly, providing for a modular weapons system, like most military-issue blaster rifles and the like. In addition, with their specialization as "pure weapons", their processing speed and reliability is even greater than that of their grander cousins. Thus, a less accomplished mage, armed with a variety of Weapon Devices can best a veteran magi armed with the more versatile Intelligent or Storage Device.

"So, how does it feel, Heroic Chrono?" Nagi asked me, as I shrugged back on my trench coat, hurriedly, to escape from the cold. "Your very first Device!"

Due to the M4760A1's unobtrusive nature, we were able to hide the Power Belt beneath my uniform. No one would notice unless they cooked off a specialized "Search"-type spell, or they searched my person for weapons and the like. It was comfortable to wear, surprisingly; the weight negligible even for a child. In practice, the bracers and the greaves served as "Emitters" that projected a personal force field around the user, based on a "Field"-type defensive spell. The crossbody belt serves as the "Regulator", distributing shield coverage accordingly to need, and focusing the energies into the hands and feet for "Power Strikes" that can pierce even the adamant hull of a main battle tank. Last but not least, the heart or brains of the "Power Belt" lies in the belt worn around the user's waist that contains the "Magi-Link Interface" and other necessities.

"Well, I do not feel any more terribly powerful, if that is what you are concerned about," I confessed to my waiting colleagues, "I can sense my link to the Device, a kind of background noise, an electrifying presence that is diverting the flow of mana in my circuits elsewhere."

Ryuune had a thoughtful expression on her face, as she favored me with her scrutiny. I am surprised she has not asked yet, just where The Fool got his hands on military hardware, and how he did it, granted it would have been a futile demand knowing Nagi.

"Seems textbook enough."

"Yes, yes! Can you confirm its capabilities?" the albino inquired further.

"No. I feel just as 'naked' as I did before."

"Hmm, that is a problem..."

"Hey, Harlaown, isn't that Dubyadee supposed to be 'smart'? Y'know, it only goes to work when you need it to?"

"Yes, but considering where we are going and what I am about to do..."

"And just what are you going to-?"

I never got to answer her for I was interrupted, not by a cry, but a scream of blaster fire. It went on and on, the overwhelming fusillade hitting me with a force to be reckoned, bowling me over in a haze of flash, smoke, sparks, and flame. I lay motionless, speechless, and shocked for all the world; time slowing to a crawl as the stench of ozone and melted ferrocrete assailed my senses. Questions raced through my panicked mind at speeds beyond light: how? why? who? what? impossible. "This" could not be happening to me, not like this...

"NAGI, YOU SONUVABITCH!" I heard an unholy scream through the din of white noise.

"Easy, easy, mi'lady," tut-tutted another voice, "everything is going just as planned."

"Just as planned...? Just as planned, huh! Well, frak you and your SITHSHIT PLAN! I'll get you; I'll get you; I'll get you... I'LL KILL YOU, YOU HEAR ME?!"

"Ah-hahaha, how honest and straightforward of you, Ryuune Zoldark, and I would not have it any other way..."

"Don't call me by my name, chakaar!"

"...you are perfect for the role of the lead hot-blooded heroine! This Nagi, Fool and Devil, always knew you were the one he needed."

"You'll be knowing my boot so far up your arse your flaming damned great grandfrakker will roll over in the incinerator and piss some more shavit!"

"I would love to see you try," Nagi chortled, wholly unrepentant and expectant, "in fact, I look forward to it, with great pleasure, but in the meantime... Chrono, mi'lord, my hero: do you not think you have played dead long enough? Twenty-two blaster bolts, from a DC-17 repeater hand blaster, in just fewer than twenty seconds is a paltry offering to kill you."

Just like that, as if a switch had been turned on, my will returned to me, and I rose to a sitting position, sluggishly, noting my sharp ragged breaths and the sheen of sweat upon my ashen face. To my left, ducking behind a dumpster to conceal herself was a wide-eyed Ryuune Zoldark, clearly shocked at my nigh miraculous survival, while down the alleyway stood, Nagi Dai Artai, with a proud smile on his face. The smoking barrel of the white pearl-handled repeater hand blaster, meant for an adult, and thus cocked into his shoulder like a blaster rifle, identified itself clearly as the weapon of choice in my almost-murder.

"N-Nagi..." I rasped, my jaw tightening little by little into a cautious grimace.

"Ah! I commend thee for thy will to live, Heroic Chrono!" he congratulated me, all smiles, giving his weapon a theatric twirl before blowing off the smoke. The opened duffle bag, the same one from which he had produced the Power Belt, lay at his feet; it was incriminating evidence of where he had taken the blaster from, though it remains to be seen how he smuggled it in, and whom he acquired it from...

"The Device obeys you well, more than enough proof of its competent operation. I saw the blue glimmer of the shields pop up right when you needed them, instinctively! If the Device had been faulty, you would surely be in another world by now: amen."

"You... You shot me."

"All in good faith, Heroic Chrono; all in good faith."

"That's what you call good faith?" shouted Ryuune in outrage, though she had the good sense not to stand up and present herself as a target. She had taken her training too deeply to heart to make a small but fatal mistake like that in a rush of righteous fury. "Burning skies and swimming Jawas! I'm liking you less and less by the moment, you fedding scumbag."

"And my love for thee: your fury and your passion strokes the embers of my hearth ever hotter, mi'lady. This, I swear it to be true!"

"You disgusting little-!"

"Enough," I boomed with a sudden explosion of pure unadulterated malevolence, "Nagi, put that damned --- uncivilized blaster away and take us to The Coliseum. Tarry we have for long enough, and neither of you will utter another word until we reach our destination, understood, children?"

Suffice to say, the "children" froze, realizing that they had made the boy in blue scary blooming mad in the brain. Nobody (at least the sane ones) wanted to argue with a "man", who had just missed his date with death. Having the superior firepower at the time helped too, as I was liable to and could rip them both apart, from limb to limb. Those two argued and fought like a regular pair of former paramours for Mystra's sake. If they did not like each other so much, then they ought to get married, shotgun-style, right now, and I would be happy to make sure it happened!

Nagi lead the way, and nobody said a word. Down and down he lead us into the dim, wretched labyrinth of the sewers that rain beneath the "school", but I did not pay any particular attention to our route, of which I was only a passenger following in his wake. I was too busy brooding over the cold, dumb fact that if it were not for the six pieces of magi-technology on me right now, I would have been a dead man. Everything I learned, everything I possessed, lost in an instant because of some opportunistic, lucky idiot who did not even have the decency to fight me face to face where I could kill him or her in the most professional, indiscriminate manner possible.

The nerve, the audacity, the absurdity; my training, of course, had covered this very real possibility, the most likely threat I would ever face on the battlefield: some man, woman, or worse, child with a "gun". Indeed, they would shoot at me, and try their damned best to kill me, despite the odds against them. The combat instructors had all tried to prepare us mentally for when it happened, but to experience a still distant nightmare given flesh blood in reality, having live "rounds" slam into me...

How frail and weak I am, truly...

Stronger.

Stronger.

And stronger.

I must get stronger. That is the only answer, and this truth I repeated like a mantra, burning it into my heart. I must be able to protect myself before I can protect others, strong enough that I can lead them into battle without fear; a truth, I had been taught for what seemed like a lifetime ago. Never again would I allow myself to succumb to such gross weakness. It was unsightly, pathetic, and inexcusable in a commander: one entrusted with the sacred duty to lead.

Stronger!

It was the cool blast of wind that snapped me free from my dark ruminations. Suddenly, I was aware of just how colder the air had gotten, stand here on this "bridge": we were somewhere, somewhere up on high, incredibly high, above the clouds, staring down at the wondrous majesty of the world, bathed in the light of the distant sun, setting painting everything in hues of yellows, reds, and brown. Impossibly so, the air was breathable despite our obvious high altitude; the ancient bridge of stone, lined with imposing gothic gargoyles, and tall windmills.

Towering over us, none too far away, was a massive, majestic free-standing structure: the facade of its outer wall comprised of three stories of arcades surmounted by a podium on which stands a tall attic, both of which are pierced by windows interspersed regularly. Each of the arcades were framed by intricate vaulted half-columns, while the attic was embellished with pilasters. Furthermore, each of the arches in the second and third floor arcades framed elaborate statues, some human-like and others all too alien, likely honoring divinities or figures from an unknown culture.

There was no doubt this structure was keeping the very bridge we stood upon, which in all likelihood was a dock, afloat. The feat of levitation was achieved by the concentration of colossal aero and storm magicite, generating a crackling magical electromagnetic storm cloud of awe-inspiring proportions. Some would call this floating structure a sky fortress, but considering the visible lack of weaponry, and the myriad of banners proudly on display from its tops, the structure was intended for a different purpose. Indeed, by the audible festive cheers and uproarious music we could here emanating forth, an amphitheatre was a much more fitting description.

"I'll...I'll be Kesseled! Where in the droyk are we?" Ryuune was the first to speak up, entirely mystified by our circumstances. "Last thing I remember was us trudgin' through the flaming mopak of a sewer, and vape, here we are!"

Nagi laughed, pleased by the Corellian girl's wonder, "Excellent, excellent! It heartens me to see young hearts fall for the magnificence left behind by our ancestors. This is the Stage of Sky, an Innate Bounded Field, right inside the Tower of Bavel itself!"

We were inside the Tower?

"But bear in mind, this is not the true interior of the Tower either."

So this is an illusion?

"But! The world you see here is, indeed, very real and material. If we wished, we could even try to explore the world down below, though I would advise against as none have ever returned from the surface. More importantly, we should fix our sights on the true prize: Chrono! Ryuune! I give thee..."

He gestured theatrically towards none other...

"The Coliseum, where Our Destiny awaits!"

To be continued...

Author's Notes:

Well, there you have it. Entry 1.10 in all of its glory. Thoughts, feelings, questions: hey, fire away, fellas. Sorry, no action this episode (despite the hype for which I apologize), as I ended up doing quite a lot of exposition, but I assure you all it's quite worthwhile "World" information to flesh the universe out and make it more "real". There is also some decent character development and foreshadowing on the side. Again, I am sorry about the hype, and then making you all read this kind of chapter instead, but you gotta know what you are getting into, before you go out and fight. Knowing and understanding the technology you use to fight, and the reasons for your education is already half the battle won. The rest is guts and putting that knowledge to practice, at least that's how it works with the Modern Mid-Childa magic system, very scientific and logical.

Other Magic Systems, on the other hand, will not be the same, with the exception of "Modern" Belkan (as we already know they are a lame copy of Modern Mid-Childa that "cheats" using "Magic Cartridges" to accelerate spell casting or spell power through "brute force"). If any of y'all have some interesting systems in mind you wanna see in action at some point, give me a holler and we'll see if we can work something out (I am looking at you, Person with many aliases).

I know I am looking forward to Daemonic Devices. Man, those are going to be a lot of fun, when we finally get around to 'em.

Oh yeah, time for a small advertising service announcement thingie here: if y'all get bored in between waiting for new episodes, be it anime, manga, or fanfiction and whatnot, but you're dying for a fresh/unique AU fic go read Kara no Kyokai: The Borderline to Emptiness by Tempest Dynasty in the Naruto section. He's got chappie 19 out as of this posting. I guarantee, he is the only fella who has the guts to fuse Magical Lyrical Nanoha with Naruto and the infamous Warhammer 40K gothic-scifi military tabletop game series. Give it a shot; you won't regret it.

Thank you all for tuning in and remember, I always encourage each and everyone of you to feel free to comment, review, and/or discuss the story. Your comments can really make a difference, I assure you, and if you're up to it, feel free to ring me up on AIM (it is: jamesedwards0079), or even send me an e-mail (although you really don't need to boost my ego too often). You know how to get in touch with the maestro here.

Tsudzuku!