My Superpower Is Piloting Magical Girl Corpses?

She pressed the dim pendant at her chest with one hand.

Was this malfunction the reason she couldn't transform?

...It didn't matter.

Seventeen deaths, seventeen restarts.

With the Precision Operation Engine activating at that moment, Lin Guang's control over magic power, his tolerance for pain, and his understanding of every cell in this body—all the replayed analyses and deductions… every accumulation reached a breaking point right then.

Even without external aids, his soul was inching closer and closer to that threshold.

The girl lifted her head, her pretty face pale, yet her eyes burned with an unprecedented fighting spirit, and a confident smile had already settled on her lips.

She lowered her voice and declared in that crisp, cool tone.

"Smile, full marks."

The magic in the air seemed to hear the command and frantically converged toward her, forcibly pushing the silver throwing knives out from her wounds; they clattered onto the grass.

"Fighting spirit, one hundred percent."

Under that unfathomable sensation, she altered the incantation again, and the holy light covering her body began to redden.

She took a deep breath, then exhaled a brand-new transformation chant born from this body's original words but infused with a far stronger will, issuing from her soul.

Her voice, half singing, half reciting, rang through the forest:

"Burn the heartfire."

"Shatter the flesh!"

The holy light swelled into crimson flames that wrapped the girl's bare, slender body, as if intent on devouring her.

She spread her arms as if to embrace the force that could incinerate her to ash, her face showing indescribable excitement and surrender.

Her hands returned to the front, forming the standard starting pose, "Are you ready?"

She had been ready for a long time!

(＜ゝω·）~☆

Boom——!!!

This time, the magic did not betray her.

A two-meter-wide pillar of crimson fire shot up from the ground, swallowing the girl completely.

There was no uncontrolled explosion.

It was the cheer of power submitting!

In an instant, the vast magic poured into the earth like an infusion, making the surrounding soil soften and slightly vitrify under the intense heat.

In that dazzling radiance, the holy light that covered her body finally began to weave and solidify.

Her once-smooth cherry-red hair instantly transmuted under the assault of magic into blazing scarlet like living fire, the tips whipping wildly as molten streams.

Her eyes ignited as well, turning into two crystalline rubies.

Light condensed into a tangible "spirit outfit" that clothed her body.

It was an idol-style battle suit dominated by deep red and pure white, sharply tailored and stylish; the red skirt flared like blooming spider lilies. Strangely, the suit looked somewhat damaged in many places, as if battle-worn, matching her brutally wounded condition.

Even so, the emergence of this spirit outfit brought her an unprecedented exhilaration.

This meant—

Magical girl Mengmengxiang, present!

When the flames dispersed, the crimson-clad girl looked toward the wary Head Maid puppet. With a casual wrist twist in midair, the swirling magic particles swarmed into her palm.

Hum—

A long rod-like object materialized and spun at high speed in her hand, stirring a howling wind.

She gripped it steadily and slammed it down onto the ground.

It was a peculiar staff that resembled a microphone, cast in a muted crimson; its upper section bore a megaphone-like mechanical structure with sharp lines, and the top was set with a pentagram-shaped mount.

At the center of that pentagram hovered a deep red gem, pulsing dimly and brightly with Lin Guang's magic and emotions, exuding a dangerous aura.

Lin Guang seized the staff and brandished it through the air.

At that moment, triumphant music erupted from the staff and echoed through the forest—music like a carnival parade, voices weaving through the melody.

It felt like the opening of a grand celebration.

A flush of excitement returned to her pale cheeks like a final afterglow.

The girl slowly spoke the line no one here could understand:

"Come on, showtime."

Simultaneously, brilliant, torrential fire erupted from her staff!

............

"Yiya!"

Accompanied by a tremulous, coquettish cry, dense fog was violently torn apart by successive muzzle flashes.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Several azure projectile trails sliced through the air. The ghostlike Head Maid puppet was struck midair by a barrage of energy bullets, its body convulsing as if electrocuted, shattering on the spot.

The broken doll's fragments were flung backward by the bullets' kinetic force, crashing into the grass with charred smoke rising from the ruptured edges.

The attacker was a composed girl with a crisp bearing.

She stood about 1.6 meters tall, her long blue hair cascading like a waterfall, strands gleaming with a watery sheen.

She wore a sleek, slate-blue battle skirt that exposed much of her long legs, and she gripped two streamlined cobalt handguns.

Beside her on the trampled soil, besides the puppet she had just destroyed, lay two other shattered dolls whose original forms were scarcely recognizable.

It's over.

Only after confirming the monsters no longer moved did the girl's taut nerves finally loosen; her legs went weak and she collapsed onto the mud without dignity.

"Hah... hah..."

Her twin guns slid from her hands and dissipated like water. She braced herself with her palms on the ground, gasping for breath, shoulders trembling slightly, fine cold sweat beading on her forehead. Her already pale face looked even more drained.

Crack.

Suddenly, a crisp sound.

A soft white light burst from her body. The magnificent blue spirit outfit disintegrated into countless specks of light.

When the glow faded, the magical girl who had held twin guns was gone. In her place was a much smaller figure.

It was a girl who appeared to be in first year of middle school.

She wore a sailor uniform: a white short-sleeved blouse with a bright red neckerchief, a black pleated mini-skirt, brown rounded-toe sneakers, and white long socks wrapped around slender calves—an air of youthful innocence and vigor.

Her blue hair had reverted to its original burgundy, and she leaned on her knees panting, green eyes like emeralds still reflecting a trace of lingering shock.

Pat, pat, pat.

Unhurried applause came from within the mist.

Startled, Su Fang looked up and saw a tall figure approaching slowly.

She was about 1.7 meters tall, silver-gray hair casually draped over her shoulders, gleaming metallically in the dim light.

Her figure was slim; she wore a tight black tank top under a short khaki tactical jacket, faded, slightly worn jeans hugging straight legs.

The slightly wild outfit perfectly outlined her understated yet fitting curves, and the half-finger tactical gloves on her hands added a dash of martial elegance.

On her back hung a longsword whose cold gleam could not be concealed even while sheathed.

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