In order to make the magic tools easier to carry in practical combat, Akira had thrown himself into an intense period of research and experimentation.
The moment inspiration struck, he retreated straight into his room, locking the door behind him as if entering a battlefield—one of solitude and innovation.
Without eating, without sleeping, without interacting with anyone, Akira focused wholly on one goal: optimizing the magic ball.
After countless trial-and-error experiments, endless sleepless nights, and failed prototypes that now cluttered a corner of his desk like discarded memories, the new version was finally born.
—Magic Ball 2.0.
This updated model was nothing short of revolutionary. Ingeniously restructured, the magic ball could now compress into the size of a marble when inactive—small, sleek, and easily concealable. Whether slipping it into a pocket or concealing it in the palm of one's hand, carrying it around no longer posed an inconvenience.
Once infused with magic power, however, it would instantly expand into a size optimized for spellcasting—neither too big to wield nor too small to aim. It was the perfect balance between compactness and functionality.
Akira even considered logistics. Instead of bulky cases or inconvenient pouches, all one needed was a slim waist bag strapped around the hip. With this, a full set of magic balls could be carried without adding any noticeable burden.
To reach this point, Akira had isolated himself for three full days.
For seventy-two hours, he had been holed up in his workshop-like bedroom. Day and night lost all meaning. The sun rose and fell outside his window, unnoticed. Food trays brought by concerned familia members remained untouched. His life, for those three days, consisted of nothing but carving runes, testing energy thresholds, and adjusting formulas with trembling hands.
Though his magic power remained mostly intact due to his excellent self-regulation, his stamina had long since begun to dwindle.
Worse still, Akira wasn't exactly known for persistence when it came to repetitive tasks. To repeat a single monotonous process over and over again—refining the engravings, adjusting the internal core, balancing the spell structure—it made even someone as passionate as Akira feel mentally drained.
But what choice did he have?
For the sake of the Familia.
For Astraea.
For the girls who followed him into danger.
He could only grit his teeth and persevere.
And finally, on the night of the third day, while the world was sound asleep and moonlight cast gentle beams across the floor of his room, Akira set down his tools and looked at his creation.
60 magic balls.
Each one gleaming softly, filled with purpose and magic.
He divided them up evenly—five for each girl.
What made them even more powerful was the fact that he had sealed five distinct types of magic into these orbs.
—Flame. Lightning. Gale. Ice Wall. Blood.
The first three were offensive in nature, designed to burn, shock, or blow away foes in the heat of battle. The fourth, Ice Wall, was a defensive spell—ideal for blocking attacks, creating terrain, or buying time.
And the fifth—Blood Magic.
"Wait, blood... for healing?" one might ask.
But this wasn't your standard recovery spell. While Blood Magic could restore health, its true function was far more specialized—it replenished magic power.
Through his unique bloodline-based authentication system, when the girls channeled their mana into the spheres, the magic would form an invisible link—allowing Akira's stored blood-based energy to surge into the user's body, revitalizing their magical reserves.
Yes, potions existed. But they required restocking, Valis, and sometimes luck. This, however, was custom-made magic—powered by Akira's own essence, sealed into a sphere.
And that wasn't all.
Astraea, having no magic of her own, posed a unique challenge. So, Akira came up with something... different.
A pistol.
Though it only bore visual resemblance to the ones from his previous world, this weapon was constructed based on a bold, borderline reckless idea of 'Let's see if this works.'
In reality, it was more like a magic conduit disguised as a firearm. It had a hollow chamber in the center designed to house a magic ball. When the user pulled the trigger, it activated a magic array embedded into the weapon—an array created and tuned by Akira's own magic.
This allowed Astraea to fire spells without ever needing to expand the ball or directly channel magic. Elegant. Efficient. Functional.
And when Akira—now looking like a ghost of himself with dark circles that rivaled those of a rogue Dimension Walker—finally emerged to hand out the fruits of his labor, he was met not with cheers, but with a sea of worried faces.
Concern. Shock. Then, awe.
The sight of so many magic balls—each one custom-made, sealed, refined—left the girls breathless.
Though they wanted to scold him for overworking himself, their hearts couldn't help but melt at the thoughtfulness behind his effort.
Even as they argued, cried, and praised him, Akira remained standing by sheer will alone. Somehow still coherent, he launched into an explanation of each tool's usage, effects, and limitations.
It wasn't until he had finished instructing every single one of them that he finally collapsed—only to be lifted off the ground by the girls, who carried him straight to his bed and tucked him in with motherly tenderness.
He had earned his rest.
The next morning came with gentle rays of sunlight peeking through the windows.
Akira, still a little groggy, stepped outside and was greeted by a sight that could only be described as divine punishment for temptation.
Alise and the others were already on the training grounds, performing their daily morning exercises.
Sweat rolled down their delicate cheeks, dripping from their chins and sliding down their necks. Their plain white short-sleeved shirts were thoroughly soaked, clinging to their toned bodies. The curves beneath were accentuated with such clarity that Akira had to avert his eyes—though not before getting an eyeful.
Their breathing was light but rhythmic. Their flushed faces were rosy with exertion, lips parted ever so slightly as they panted. Their damp hair stuck to their collarbones, swaying gently with each movement. Whether it was intentional or not, every step they took exuded a kind of unpolished, natural allure.
Their shorts, also soaked with sweat, clung tightly to their thighs and hips, highlighting the firmness of well-trained muscles beneath soft, fair skin. Beads of sweat shimmered like tiny gems under the morning sun.
"…77."
Akira muttered some unknown number to distract himself.
"Then let's stop here for today."
A clear clap rang out.
Astraea's gentle but firm voice echoed through the training field. She had been observing from the side, overseeing the morning session and offering the occasional pointer to refine everyone's form.
Unlike many gods and goddesses who sealed their Arcanum and became powerless upon descending, Astraea was different.
A goddess of battle as well as justice, her swordsmanship was top-tier—so sharp that even Kaguya, the familia's proud swordmaster, couldn't help but feel humbled. If measured by mortal standards, her combat ability would easily place her between Level 4 and 5.
Hearing her signal the end of training, everyone cheerfully halted their routines and began gathering the tools, returning them to the storage chest.
"Okay."
"Astraea-sama, we're heading off to wash up." Alise chirped brightly, brushing a lock of damp hair from her forehead. Her smile was as radiant as ever.
"I'll leave the clean-up to you, Akira." She added.
Akira nodded. "Roger that. Leave it to me."
Technically, Celty and Maryuu—being a mage and healer respectively—weren't required to engage in such rigorous physical training. But neither wanted to fall behind the rest. Quietly, without being told, they too had begun practicing other forms of combat to strengthen their versatility.
After the training, their bodies radiated heat from exertion. The moment they entered the bathhouse, they stripped off their sticky, sweat-soaked clothes and sighed in relief—ready to let the warm water wash away their fatigue.