A Certain Magical Index, Vol. 21

by Kazuma Kamachi

  After he raised that point, the old man said something else in Russian.

  According to Takitsubo: “He says to just turn on the engine without using the key. He wants it to look like you stole it without asking.”

  “Now that’s something. What are you gonna do if they’re listening in on this conversation with high-performance microphones or telepaths?”

  Still, Hamazura and Takitsubo were up against military vehicles and powered suits. It would be impossible to outrun them if he had to carry someone limp on his back while walking through the deep snow.

  He gave the key back to the old man, but it seemed like a better idea to accept his goodwill and “steal” the jeep.

  When Hamazura began walking from the woods toward the settlement, many pairs of eyes saw him off. The little girl tried to grab Hamazura’s clothes, but her mother stopped her. It was the same mother and daughter that the privateer anti-air vehicle had been chasing.

  Readjusting Takitsubo on his back and hurrying ahead as if to shake them off, he muttered, “…I feel pathetic. The best choice I can come up with is to abandon them without trying.”

  “It’s okay, Hamazura,” answered Takitsubo, still hanging limp, bringing her mouth close to his ear. “You’re still fighting to protect me. You’re not pathetic.”

  As though spurred on by her words, Hamazura continued to run.

  Their current destination was the Elizalina Alliance.

  And to escape pursuit from Academy City’s heavy armaments, first they’d need to get their hands on that jeep.

  3

  It was a small room made of stone, in a building that must have been some kind of fortress originally.

  The sight of a building centuries old and still in use without seeing much preservation work may have seemed strange for Japanese people, whose dwellings were often built with wood in a part of the world that experienced frequent earthquakes. But indeed, the only updates that stood out in this place were necessities added afterward, like fluorescent lighting and air-conditioning.

  Founded several years ago, the Elizalina Alliance of Independent Nations was a new up-and-coming country. Therefore, World War III—that massive change in the global status quo—had broken out before they’d built any modern military facilities, and so they seemed to have hurriedly incorporated military equipment like radars into existing infrastructure to transform them into makeshift army bases.

  This old fortress was one of those facilities. Many of the men and women going between one door and the next were dressed in crude camouflage gear.

  Amid them all stood Accelerator.

  He had lost to the Level Zero but after he had been left unconscious in the Russian snow following their battle, he was brought to the Elizalina Alliance of Independent Nations thanks to that boy—it seemed he’d talked to them and gotten him transferred into their soldiers’ care.

  “How’s my battery? …That good, huh…”

  Accelerator raised a hand to the electrode on his neck.

  The battery had been drained after several back-to-back fights, but now that he’d obtained a temporary resting place, he’d been blessed with a chance to recharge it. The voltage, current, and plug shape were all different from Japan’s, so he couldn’t simply use the devices he had on hand. Instead, he’d successfully dismantled a local adapter and adjusted the insides.

  Back to his usual condition, Accelerator spread dozens of parchment sheets out on a wooden table.

  They were the cargo the Russian forces had been trying to transport on that freight train. Scrawled all over them were occult patterns and handwritten incantations, the kind that wouldn’t be out of place in a horror film. He could tell that each of the drawings was done by hand using sticky, waxlike ink. Despite the analog method, however, they were all exceedingly precise. The letters were uniform Latin script, but notes had been added here and there in small Russian characters.

  He couldn’t tell exactly what it said. He didn’t even know whether it had any real meaning.

  However:

  …It seems like some kind of instruction manual. I can tell the pictures here are done in sequence, like it’s following steps for something, but…

  Accelerator’s eyes shifted, glancing around until he found a Caucasian man wearing a dirt-cheap camo outfit staring at the parchment with a somehow meek expression. The fluorescent lights, clashing with the centuries-old stone building, made the soldier’s skin appear even paler.

  Accelerator asked in Russian, “Do you know what this is?”

  Despite making the effort to speak his language, though, the soldier’s shoulders gave a jerk. He seemed to be simply afraid, in addition to being surprised that Accelerator had suddenly addressed him in Russian.

  The soldier gave Accelerator a hard look up and down. “…You’re Japanese, right?”

  In response, the white-haired, red-eyed monster returned a casual glance and answered the question with another one. “What do I look like?”

  The soldier must have spotted the dangerous irritation behind his eyes, and Accelerator was fairly confident that the man wouldn’t be steering the conversation any further off topic. To help the idea along, Accelerator pointed to the parchment again and repeated, “Do you know what this is?”

  “No…” The soldier shook his head. “But it looks like some kind of list of magical conversion requirements. I think it’s giving directions on how to cast Roman Orthodox spells with Russian Catholic standards, explaining what to replace and how to replace them. But I can’t tell what kind of spell, exactly, it’s trying to communicate.”

  “…”

  Accelerator assumed a dubious look, but the soldier shook his head, face paling, seeming to imply that he shouldn’t expect any more than that. As several other soldiers bustled about, only Accelerator was still as they conversed.

  The soldier continued. “Don’t make that face. Unlike Lady Elizalina, I’m not up to snuff in this department. I’ve only gotten glimpses of it sometimes while on her personal security detail—I haven’t studied it. If I could chant a spell and make a flame appear in my hand, I mean…I wouldn’t be carrying around these hand grenades here, would I?”

  He seemed to be under the false assumption that he’d offended Accelerator for not being able to provide the answer he was looking for, but that wasn’t why Accelerator was currently frowning.

  What the hell was this soldier talking about?

  Magic? Spells? List of conversion requirements? Roman Orthodox? Russian Catholic? Activation methods? Department? Gotten glimpses? Study? Chant a spell and make fire in your hand?

  The words flowed from the soldier’s lips like they were the most natural thing in the world—and every last bit of it was beyond Accelerator’s understanding. It wasn’t a simple deception the man had thought up on the spot. Nor was it spiritualism or a religious take on things. The soldier had just rattled off nonsensical vocabulary as realistically viable techniques. He could tell by the man’s tone of voice. It was no different from what someone would sound like if they were explaining the timing of when to pour wine into the pot as the secret ingredient to a meat dish.

  He couldn’t wrap his head around it.

  But if there was anything that Academy City’s number-one monster, the crystallization of scientific technology, couldn’t understand…

  Then maybe it was the key to solving the Last Order issue that had thoroughly stumped him so far.

  The words Aiwass had given him: Go to Russia.

  The note the Level Zero had left for him: Index Librorum Prohibitorum.

  The key that would draw a straight line between them:

  “…Who is Elizalina?”

  “A sorceress—or no, rather, a wizard, I believe. That’s apparently what they call casters who prefer to adopt disciples rather than work by themselves. I bet if the English Puritan Church, for example, knew about that, they’d sic some ferocious hounds on her. Lady Elizalina realigned the religious underpinnings of the Allianc
e and successfully raised and produced sorcerers for real combat. I mean, the Russian Church is one of the three largest religions in the world. It would be crazy to fight them head-on, but she can at least fling invisible spells from afar to maintain a defensive line. Which is the bare minimum requirement to call yourself a historical nation with a mature spiritual culture.”

  It would be easier to understand programming language at this point, thought Accelerator. The cultural differences were already well beyond what he could grasp in a few words.

  “Anyway, this Elizalina chick—she can decode this parchment?”

  “If she could talk.” The soldier sighed. “She’s in a field hospital bed at the moment.”

  “Great. I have no idea why I got brought to a place like this, and now my last resort for explaining shit is groaning in the hospital.”

  “Is your companion all right?”

  The soldier was referring to Last Order.

  The girl, who appeared to be about ten, lay sleeping on a sofa along the wall of the room they were in. Her body was limp against the cushions, and she didn’t move a muscle. She had fully lost consciousness. Every time Accelerator remembered that he couldn’t feel the “presence” of a person from her, the silence gave him a faint chill.

  “Does she look all right? We had to flee the country for her.”

  “All the more reason you shouldn’t move her.” The Caucasian soldier looked between Accelerator and Last Order. “Whatever you want to do now, you can’t keep bringing her along with you, can you? I mean, our hospitals might not be comparable to Academy City’s cutting-edge technology, but maybe you should get her to one. Just having a bed can make a big difference.”

  “…I didn’t plan on staying long or getting into bloodbaths anyway. Ideally, I’d like for this to be our goal line, with me solving everything ASAP here and now, then have that stupid kid throw one of her usual annoying tantrums.”

  As Accelerator scratched his head, he seemed to remember something else and asked, “Is there anyone besides Elizalina who can decipher this parchment?”

  “…The sorcerers who belong to our unit have only gotten training for actual combat, so they can be unfamiliar with more orthodox concepts. I doubt you’ll find anyone aside from Lady Elizalina who could do decoding on this level.”

  Which meant he’d just have to wait for the injured woman to wake up after all.

  He had the choice of leaving the Alliance and searching for other leads, but like this soldier had said, Last Order’s health was unpredictable. She wasn’t in a state where he could drag her around without a concrete destination in mind.

  …It’s in my best interest, but I never thought I’d be keeping my schedule open for someone else.

  “When’s the sleeping beauty gonna wake up?”

  “If all goes well, in one to three hours. That’s when the general anesthesia wears off…But she did just have surgery. At most, she’ll give the letters a look over. She needs absolute rest, and ordinarily, we’d want you to stay away from her.”

  “I see.”

  “What about the girl? If you need a bed, say so soon. You just crossed the Eurasian mainland—you know what state the world is in right now. We’re at war. No guarantee those beds will stay open forever.”

  “…Yeah, I’d have to be an absolute moron to go into battle with a kid on my back. Considering her health, it might be better to toss her in a hospital or something.

  “But—,” added Accelerator.

  Ba-bang-bang-bang!!

  He abruptly took the gun out of his belt and shot through another nearby soldier’s feet.

  The man he’d just been speaking with froze up, sputtering.

  In the meantime, Accelerator shot the feet of a few other men and women in the room.

  “Spies,” said Accelerator lazily. “If I’m gonna leave the kid to you, I need to make sure her environment is clean as can be.”

  Accelerator prodded one of the fallen, immobilized men with a foot. A small microphone and a recording-transmitting device, like the kind celebrities would use, was revealed to be connected inside his clothing via cable. The spies had been monitoring Alliance troop movements and transmitting it to Russia from here. Another possibility was that they’d been feeding poor advice or false information to distract Alliance forces.

  His attendant soldier hurried to search the other wounded. Like the first, they all were carrying similarly hidden devices.

  “These communicators don’t reach far. There must be a communications officer with real equipment somewhere outside.”

  “Naturally, they’re preparing to run away now that we noticed. Or maybe they’ll try something more for the motherland, knowing they’ll die in the attempt.” Accelerator headed for the room’s exit on his crutch. “In exchange for lodging, I’ll mop these guys up for you. I don’t have time to clean out the entire Alliance, all two hundred miles from east to west, but I’ll exterminate all the pests in and around this sector. While I’m at it, I’ll give you a lecture on how to tell which pests are harmful. Then you can handle it yourself.”

  “How did you know? Spies come in two flavors. The first shows their strength by organizing into a large-scale group, like the KGB or the CIA. The second doesn’t maintain a name or structured organization—they take all the jobs that would cause international problems if things got into the public record. These people are clearly the second kind. Some teenager from Japan shouldn’t be able to spot them.”

  “Not necessarily,” Accelerator replied easily. “If you observe everyone’s subtle traits and habits, you’ll naturally find the ones who stand out against everyone else.”

  His words were delivered in such a light tone, so conversational, that it made the soldier shudder.

  “This place you’re all standing in now ain’t the only hell out there. If you ask me, darkness in these parts is barely scratching the tip of the iceberg.”

  It was instantly obvious whether the intimation was a bluff or not.

  And thus, the monster born of the world’s most advanced technology and shaped by the greatest evil, who had been single-mindedly eradicating the darkness, began laying the necessary groundwork.

  4

  St. George’s Cathedral, London.

  “Chapter eight, verse twenty-five. Commencing elimination of entity obstructing remote access operation. Reverse-engineering spell structure of hostile entity.”

  A girl’s voice flowed out smoothly.

  The damaged record–like noise from just moments before had ceased.

  And.

  Roar!! Accompanied by an immense gust of wind, red wings sprouted from the young nun in white. They were a hue closer to that of blood than flames; and as intricate magic circles blinked in and out of existence in her pupils, she slowly turned her head, observing.

  Index.

  Seeing her utterly changed form, Stiyl Magnus scowled slightly. He never made a face when burning enemy sorcerers to a crisp, but he had wrinkles on his brow now, as though he was suppressing some pain.

  “OOTFECOTW, TGFOB. (One of the five elemental components of the world, the great fire of beginning.)”

  And yet, Stiyl didn’t hesitate to fight.

  He’d been entrusted with her life.

  He took out a rune card.

  “IITBLNL, AIITLOJTPTW. (It is the blessed light nurturing life, and it is the light of judgment to punish the wicked.)

  “IFWGH, AIINMWECD. (It fills with gentle happiness, and it is numbing misfortune which extinguishes cold darkness.)

  “IINF—IIMS. (It is named fire—it is my sword.)

  “MTAMMBFGP!! (Manifest thyself and masticate my body for great power!!)”

  No, it wasn’t only one card. In an instant, a multitudes of cards were plastered on every single spot in the room. Too many—it was unearthly.

  Flames roared to life.

  A column of fire over ten feet tall appeared, coalescing into a human form. The fiery 3,000 degrees Celsius mass was n
amed Innocentius—the Witch-Hunter King.

  Index’s head jerked slightly and took aim at her target.

  A moment later.

  Boom!!!!!!

  By the time he heard the tremendous boom ring out, Innocentius had already been mowed down.

  The red wings sprouting from the girl’s back had swung around. That simple motion instantly tore through the blazing titan, supposedly supported by thousands of rune cards. It had even prevented automatic regeneration that should have activated. Due to feedback from the damage Innocentius had sustained, the cards surrounding it blackened, now useless.

  This was ultimate defense system of the library of magical grimoires—the index of prohibited books that freely wielded the power of 103,000 volumes to protect the storehouse of knowledge from all would-be thieves.

  However, Stiyl didn’t have the time to calmly mull this over.

  The defeated Innocentius fell apart and scattered in all directions, and the shock wave now bared its fangs at the flame’s summoner.

  “…?!”

  Stiyl was thrown directly into the wall.

  His back took the brunt of the impact, knocking the wind out of him. The girl, magic circles floating within her eyes, watched him calmly.

  “Chapter ten, verse three. Confirmed effectiveness of current spell. Increasing spell’s power and scope. Determining most effective method to terminate hostile entity’s life-sustaining processes.”

  Foom!! Several red wings extended all at once.

  Now extending far enough to scrape against the cathedral’s ceiling, they assailed Stiyl with all the force of a steel trap slamming shut.

  He had no time to think of a spell.

  Willing his body to move despite nearly having lost its strength from the earlier blow, he rolled to the floor.

  The many wings fell.

  Only good fortune was responsible for none of them landing a direct hit.

  However…

  Following a great rumble, the floor of St. George’s Cathedral split wide open.