On the day of the June Festival, as usual, the weather was clear and sunny—a perfect day for strolling and relaxing.
Suddenly, a thunderclap boomed.
Everyone in the city... no, everyone across the Eastern Territory looked up at the azure sky. They saw a thundercloud rapidly gathering above Cecilia City, pressing down toward somewhere in the city like a gigantic tornado.
But this imposing cloud brought not a drop of rain. Instead, its continuous rumbling had a rhythm to it, and soon it was joined by a sound like turning gears, together forming a melody.
Amid this grand symphony, dazzling flashes of lightning flickered, as if an Alchemist were repeatedly forging the cloud. At last, the mountain-sized mass of black clouds had been forged into a set of golden gears.
The gears turned in the sky, countless chains dangling from them and stretching overhead in every direction, covering the entire Eastern Territory like some kind of Beacon.
"What is that?!" someone couldn't help asking.
Unfortunately, few could explain what they were seeing. Even the old-timers in the city said they had never seen such a spectacle.
Only the Long-lived Race hidden among the crowds couldn't help smiling at the sight.
"Isn't that the Magic Gear sign? After all these years, it's still the same—"
"Chuunibyou!"
Angell stared at the gears spinning above the Workshop and said.
The sign had originally been stored at the very back of the warehouse. Even Mithril had forgotten about it. For some reason, though, Angell remembered that the Magic Gear Shop used to hold a special celebration for its anniversary, so he dug it out of storage.
Still, Angell hadn't expected the thing to be so imposing.
It wasn't just the whole street or the whole city—even the entire Eastern Territory, and perhaps the whole kingdom, now knew about it. At the current speed of information exchange, every newspaper in the kingdom would probably report on it.
Angell couldn't help complaining, "How is this the sign for an Alchemy Workshop? It looks like the prelude to the arrival of some dark force!"
"I warned you. The Demon Race War was going on when they made this sign, and everyone liked things that were grand and felt fated," Mithril said. "It really is a bit much now. Should we take it down?"
Though Mithril said that, it didn't move. It gazed at the sign with a look of unmistakable nostalgia.
Angell was only joking.
He smiled and shook his head. "Why take it down?"
"Chuunibyou stuff is the best way to grab people's attention."
*
The Chuunibyou Gear had certainly done its job well.
Sir Mandela, at least, had been drawn to the gears in the sky.
"What is that?" he asked his servant.
The servant hurried off to ask around. When he returned, he reported, "The gears are directly above an Alchemy Workshop. They seem to be that Workshop's sign."
"An Alchemy Workshop?" Sir Mandela shook his head with a laugh. "I suppose it's only in a backwater place like this that you'd find an antique like something out of a story!"
But then he asked, "What kind of Workshop is it?"
"I believe it's called the 'Magic Gear Shop.'" The servant paused, then cleverly recalled what he'd read in the newspaper a few mornings ago. "There was a report in the local paper. It said the Workshop is one of the oldest in the city. It went through some trouble a while ago and is about to reopen. They've also launched a new product..."
As the servant spoke, he saw his master ring for the maids and tell them to help him get dressed.
It was clearly a sign that he was going out.
The servant was stunned. "Sir, are you interested in that Workshop?"
It was no wonder the servant was so shocked. His master was famous for hating "old things."
Sir Mandela came from Xiesse, known as the "Free City" and the "Trade City." His family had once owned the Iron Puppet, one of the ten most prestigious old theaters in Xiesse.
But thirty years ago, when Sir Mandela was seventeen, an obscure little company from the Royal Capital came to Xiesse to recruit actors. They claimed they were going to make something called a "Movie." At the time, every theater looked down on the company. Only Sir Mandela offered them help, and later he bought them out, founding his own Production Studio and film company.
By now, the Iron Puppet had become one of the biggest film companies on the continent.
But Sir Mandela was clearly dissatisfied with what he had achieved. He felt his influence still didn't reach far enough.
"What's the point of having influence only in Xiesse, Seyekin, Sensenata, and a few other cities? Railways are spreading everywhere like a spiderweb, and the world is visibly getting smaller. It's time to show those country bumpkins a new kind of art! Whoever gets there first captures the market!" Sir Mandela declared, full of ambition.
He had chosen Cecilia City as his first target.
To the people of the emerging city of Xiesse, every city outside the Free City was the countryside. The Magic Capital, Cecilia City, was the most stubborn and backward of them all. Yet this stubborn old holdout had enormous influence in the remote, closed-off border region—though, in the eyes of the Xiesse People, everywhere beyond Xiesse was the border. If he could open the gates of Cecilia, it would be like developing an entirely new market.
That was why Sir Mandela had come to Cecilia City: to conduct market research.
He had brought several carefully selected classic Movies. The one showing that evening, in particular, was a major production that had cost tens of thousands of gold coins. He meant to conquer the people of Cecilia on this June Festival night.
But before the Movie had even opened, Cecilia had already given Sir Mandela a shock.
"An Alchemy Workshop is neither here nor there, but that sign is something else!" Sir Mandela stroked his chin and gazed at the gears in the sky in the distance. "Wouldn't mind buying an antique now and then."
If he could buy the technology behind the sign, he'd no longer need to compete with other entertainment companies for advertising space or promotional methods. He could simply throw a Movie trailer into the sky before its release, and every theater would give it a screening slot!
Though perhaps not.
The most annoying thing about magic technology was how many restrictions came with it!
If all it took was Mana or money, then it was just a matter of cost. But if it involved some damned bloodline, contract, or other limitation, then there was no need to even apply for a patent. You'd just have to wait for the chosen one who could draw the Sword in the Stone to use it.
Sir Mandela had his servant prepare the Carriage, then headed toward the spot beneath the enormous golden gears.
It really was an Alchemy Workshop's promotional event.
Petals and colorful bubbles drifted along Heroes Street. Bright parasols and seats had been set up at the entrance, while adorable Cat Waiters trotted around on their tiptoes, handing out flyers to the puzzled visitors drawn by the gears.
"No wonder they call it the Magic Capital! These attendants are certainly unusual."
Sir Mandela offered a rare compliment.
Even Xiesse, famous for welcoming people of every race, had nothing as fantastical as this.
But the local residents of Cecilia City passing by Sir Mandela gave him complicated looks when they heard that.
Unusual, huh?
We locals in Cecilia think it's pretty unusual too!
Even in the Magic Era, you rarely saw a shop using magical cats as waiters!
Sir Mandela had no idea how the locals felt. In his eyes, the cat attendants were cute, but they were just a gimmick. What really interested him was the golden gear sign overhead.
So, after taking in the novelty at the entrance, he headed inside the Alchemy Workshop.
As he walked, Sir Mandela instructed his servant, "Find the Workshop Master and arrange a meeting. Tell him we'd like to—"
Mandela's words trailed off halfway.
He stared blankly ahead. In the middle of the spacious, palace-like Workshop hall stood a huge Arena. Inside it, a beautiful girl was fighting a ferocious White Wolf. She kept swinging her Magic Wand, hurling blood-red magical attacks like swords toward the middle of the Arena. The White Wolf roared and dodged, firing beams of white light in return.
But if it had been an ordinary fight, Sir Mandela wouldn't have given it a second thought.
In the Black Market beneath Xiesse, there were as many bloody, brutal duels as anyone could want. The wealthy waved their money around, treating people like animals and toying with them.
Sir Mandela disapproved of such things, but he was used to them.
What truly shocked him was that neither the beautiful girl nor the White Wolf was real.
Their "art style" was unlike that of real creatures. Their features were distilled from living beings, then specially beautified to make their movements more entertaining. They even had silly little quirks: when the girl got splashed with blood, she looked disgusted but tried to endure it, while the White Wolf let out an exaggerated howl when injured. Their fight no longer seemed cruel; instead, it was a little comical.
Was this a specially designed Magic Projection?
A show prepared for the customers?
Sir Mandela wondered.
While he was pondering this, the White Wolf rammed into the girl's waist. The red bar above her head instantly emptied. With a mournful cry, she turned into bubbles and disappeared, while the White Wolf struck a pose and howled in victory.
At the same time, a young man's voice rang out:
"I won!"
Only then did Sir Mandela notice two small platforms on either side of the Arena, like the witness stands in a courtroom. Two boys were standing in them. One had shouted excitedly, while the other protested indignantly:
"I just slipped up! Let's play another round!"
His words drew a chorus of boos.
Another young man eagerly pulled the sore loser down from his spot.
"My turn!"
As he spoke, he pressed a button, and the beautiful girl who had just left the Arena appeared in its center again.
"So the audience controls them?" Sir Mandela said, suddenly understanding. He had been about to praise this Magic Item as if it were a kitten, but then he paused, sensing something was off.
Mandela carefully studied the "audience" gathered around the Arena, then his expression turned grave.
"Get back to the cinema at once!" Sir Mandela said solemnly. "While there's still time, have them replace the promotional posters for Hero Leo: Awakening of the Monsters with ones for Romance of C, and give C more screening slots!"
"But Hero is the one we've been pushing so hard these past few days..."
"How many men in Cecilia do you think will feel like going to the cinema tonight?"
Sir Mandela pointed at the eager men gathered around the Arena and asked helplessly.