"I'm not Mikoto Misaka," Rowan said lightly as he pulled his arm free from Kuroko Shirai's grip. "I'm her brother. Misaka George."
He said it like a joke.
Kuroko's eyes flashed with dangerous curiosity. "Misaka-brother? So you're saying my dear one likes this kind of roleplay? Then let me check whether you've got the… qualifications a big brother should have."
Her hand darted forward.
It didn't get halfway.
A burst of electricity exploded from Rowan's body, knocking Kuroko flat on her back with a sharp yelp.
Rowan twitched. "You're unbelievable."
He waved casually at Index and Kazakiri. "I've got things to do. I'm heading out."
There was nothing more for him here. Better to find somewhere quiet and test the magic he'd just learned.
Not long after Rowan left, Tōma and Mikoto arrived.
They stared at the wrecked street, the unconscious Sherry, and Kuroko, who was just waking up with a dazed expression.
"…What happened here?" Tōma asked.
Index tilted her head and pointed at Sherry. "She attacked us. Luckily, your brother Misaka George showed up and saved us. You two look exactly alike. If not for the clothes, I never would've guessed."
Kazakiri nodded enthusiastically.
Mikoto froze. "My… brother?"
Kuroko flushed crimson as she struggled to fix her frazzled hair. "Big sister, you never told me you had a brother! I just— I mean— that was so embarrassing!"
"I don't have a brother," Mikoto said flatly. Then her eyes widened. "Wait. I know who that was."
After the Sisters incident ended, most of the Misaka clones had been sent overseas for treatment. Only a small number remained in Academy City. They all dressed like her, with only one difference. Military-grade goggles perched on their heads.
But one clone was different.
She wore men's clothing. Her strength far exceeded the others.
And she could defeat a mage head-on.
"There's only one person that fits," Mikoto muttered.
Kuroko blinked. "So… that wasn't your brother?"
"She's related to me," Mikoto said after a moment. "But she's not my brother. Strictly speaking, she's my sister. She just prefers dressing like a guy."
She rubbed her temples. The Sisters affair was still classified. She'd kept it from her friends to protect them. Now she had no choice but to give a partial explanation.
Kuroko's eyes lit up. "You have another sister? What school does she go to? Why hasn't she transferred to Tokiwadai? If she did—"
"Kuroko," Mikoto cut in sharply. "Focus. We still have an intruder to deal with."
The topic was forcibly dropped.
Rowan left Academy City behind.
Only after confirming the area was free of Aureo's surveillance drones did he vanish, reappearing in a deserted stretch of countryside beyond the city limits.
Academy City was crawling with watchers. Even invisible, experimenting with magic inside its borders was inconvenient.
This was his usual routine. Research and training outside. Enhancement experiments inside.
"Kabbalah formula," Rowan murmured, standing in the grass. "A humanoid formed from earth."
He guided his magic into the ground, sketching the sigils directly with power instead of tools. The spell didn't require a crayon. Sherry had used one because hers was a consecrated implement, enhanced with holy substances to strengthen the construct.
The circle completed.
The soil trembled.
A stone figure began to rise.
Then it collapsed.
Rowan didn't frown. He smiled.
"Good. That means it works."
Failure here was proof of compatibility. His magic could activate this world's spells without rejection. The difference was technique, not power.
Magic in this world followed a fascinating logic. The Kabbalah golem was rooted in ancient myths of gods shaping humans from earth. Mages imitated the story, but without divine authority, they could only produce constructs with rudimentary awareness.
Most magic here worked the same way.
Imitation of myth.
Even powerful artifacts were echoes of legendary divine weapons, recreated to capture a fragment of their authority.
Originally, there had been no mages or espers. Only rare individuals born with natural supernatural abilities. Everyone else had been powerless.
Mages were those without talent who refused to accept that fate.
They studied myths. Pushed their minds and wills beyond human limits. Through obsession, tragedy, and relentless focus, they forced open a path to power and recorded it as their own magical canon.
Which meant most early mages had suffered deeply.
Illness they couldn't cure. Famines that turned allies into enemies. Families slaughtered while they endured in silence for revenge. Only under that kind of pressure did someone cross the threshold and become a mage.
That history made magic hard to pass down. No innate talent was required, but the mental burden was immense. As a result, mages were rare and often drawn to religions, where belief was strong and myths plentiful.
Everything changed when two extraordinary mages, Mathers and Westcott, founded the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn.
They unified disparate magical systems, cross-referencing religions and traditions, and created the foundation of modern Western magic. For the first time, learning magic became accessible.
The Golden Dawn didn't last.
Internal conflict tore it apart. The founders and most of its members died, and its legacy scattered across the world.
Rowan looked down at the half-faded circle beneath his feet.
"This world's magic," he said softly, "is deeper than I thought."
And he intended to learn it all.