"Misaka 9981, per experimental protocol, return to the research facility immediately. Acknowledge."
The voice echoed directly inside Rowan's head.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he severed the connection at its root, using a blend of mental shielding and deliberate suppression of his brainwave output.
The Misaka Network.
Because Misaka Mikoto's abilities revolved around electromagnetic phenomena, every clone shared a nearly identical neural signature. That similarity allowed their brains to link together, forming a distributed network capable of rapid data sharing and collective computation.
On paper, it was a marvel.
In practice, Rowan suspected it was also a leash.
So he cut it.
Instantly, the background noise vanished, leaving his thoughts his own again.
From the clone's implanted memories, Rowan had already pieced together the difference between this world's abilities and those he'd seen elsewhere. Here, powers were artificially developed. Drugs, hypnosis, neural stimulation. All of it fed into a construct known as a "personal reality," which altered the microscopic world through calculation and perception, then amplified those effects through chaos.
Strength here wasn't instinctive. It was computational.
The greater the processing power of the brain, the stronger the ability.
That stood in stark contrast to the powers Rowan knew from other worlds. In those, abilities were innate. Mutations. External grants. Divine meddling. No calculations required.
This world did have exceptions.
Naturals.
Individuals born with abilities that required no artificial development, no computation. Rare enough that most people never encountered one. The modern development methods were, in truth, crude attempts to imitate them.
Rowan's sudden leap made sense now.
His magnetic control had always been instinctive. Now, layered on top of that instinct, he'd gained a computational framework. Raw power, refined by structure. And he didn't have just one brain running calculations.
He had several.
"That's why I can go further," he murmured.
His thoughts snapped back as he spotted his target.
Outside a dormitory building, Rowan hovered invisibly, peering through a window.
Misaka Mikoto.
She wore childish cartoon pajamas, her hair loose, posture relaxed. Normal. Almost disarmingly so.
The scene inside, however, was anything but calm.
"Misaka! I swear I won't do it again!"
A girl with twin tails teleported frantically around the room, clutching a pair of pink underwear decorated with cartoon frogs while dodging arcs of electricity.
"I'm curing you tonight, Shirai!" Misaka shouted, sparks snapping from her fingertips.
Moments later, the teleporting girl collapsed, twitching on the floor.
As the room fell silent, Misaka suddenly turned her head toward the window.
"…That felt strange," she muttered. "Almost like my own brainwaves."
Rowan reacted instantly, compressing his mental output further, burying it beneath layers of psychic noise.
She frowned at the empty sky, then shook her head.
"Must be my imagination."
With practiced ease, she tied her unconscious roommate up, tossed her onto the spare bed, and went to sleep.
Rowan landed silently on the rooftop.
"Blending in as a mutated clone might actually work," he thought.
Academy City was no ordinary place. A city that large, fully autonomous, filled with superpowered students who somehow obeyed rules and schedules. The people running it had to be dangerous in their own right.
Recklessness here would be fatal.
He moved to the edge of the roof and traced a spell into the concrete.
Stone peeled back. Space unfolded.
Within seconds, a fist-sized hole expanded into a room-sized pocket, hidden within the structure itself.
He layered concealment over it, then slipped inside.
This would do for now.
Food and water weren't concerns. His body didn't demand them anymore. Instead of resting, Rowan focused inward, repeatedly testing and refining his control over electricity, learning how far he could push it without drawing attention.
Far away, in the heart of the research complex, the mood was grim.
"Misaka 9981 has completely disconnected from the network. No visual confirmation anywhere in the city."
One of the staff hesitated. "Should we suspend the project until she's found?"
"No," the director replied after a moment. "Proceed as scheduled. One anomaly doesn't invalidate the plan. Tomorrow, initiate the next test with 9982. Continue the search for 9981."
He leaned back, troubled.
She had died. She had revived. And she had evolved.
None of it fit the data.
"…Unless," he muttered, "someone from the other side interfered."