A Certain Magical Index, Vol. 21

by Kazuma Kamachi

  Enough so that one could call it a symbol of that.

  …He went through all the trouble to make this stupidly big facility. I don’t know what he’s ultimately after, but he probably needs the Star of Bethlehem for it, he thought, glancing at his right hand.

  When he pressed his palm to a random wall, orange light ran through it like cracks, and about three feet of the wall surrounding that spot broke. However, by some sort of power, the fragments didn’t fall, instead floating in the air and apparently trying to get back to their original positions. There was probably a core.

  …In that case, if I destroy the core, I can deal a lot of damage to Fiamma, too. While I’m looking for him, I’ll do everything I can, wherever I can. The enemy could use it in the war, after all. Don’t need to leave it alone.

  A boom hit Kamijou’s ears.

  Windows were fitted in the stone room, but their glass shattered. Kamijou, who had reflexively covered his ears, looked outside and saw several fighter jets dancing in the blue skies.

  Academy City fighters.

  Crystallizations of the latest strides in science, crisscrossing through the Russian sky.

  Fiamma must have seen them, too—he made this declaration in a slightly more impassive voice.

  He sounded like someone had thrown a wet blanket over his fun.

  “The angelic medium, Sasha Kreutzev. The 103,000 grimoires’ remote-control Soul Arm. The ritual site, the Star of Bethlehem. And your right hand, suitable to wield my power. I’ve acquired everything I need, so I will have to ask the supporting actors to leave.”

  Kamijou had a bad feeling about this.

  But if he couldn’t figure out where Fiamma was in this huge fortress, he didn’t have any way of stopping his words.

  And then.

  Fiamma of the Right quietly offered:

  “Sally forth, Archangel Gabriel, the POWER OF GOD. Blow them all to bits.”

  Boom!!!!!!

  The world shifted to night.

  In the span of a moment, the sky changed to one completely painted in black.

  “That…can’t be…,” murmured Kamijou in a daze, confronted with powerful sorcery that held even the location of the earth, the moon, and the sun in its hands.

  It wasn’t that he couldn’t comprehend the phenomenon before him.

  He knew what it was—and that knowledge made his eyes widen to their limits as he began to tremble.

  He’d witnessed it before.

  An angelic spell.

  A supernatural phenomenon that ultimately became the bridge toward an even greater spell of purging, one that interfered with the very movement of celestial bodies and strengthened the user’s power to the point where it was possible to obliterate all humankind without even twitching a fingertip. In which case, it was obvious what one should call a being who could use it.

  Kamijou’s face lost more color than the night sky had as Fiamma’s words continued unchallenged and amused, like a soldier during a training drill, showing off a weapon he was proud of.

  “Actually, maybe in this case, I should call it Misha Kreutzev.”

  A moment later, Kamijou got a glimpse of some sort of blue point of light in the jet-black night sky.

  If he strained to see it, it may have resembled a human figure. That was how tiny this light was, that appeared as a mere speck, and how far away it was.

  However.

  Sound ceased.

  Something like giant wings extended from the blue speck of light, cutting horizontally through the heavens, as far as the eye could see.

  The sound of an explosion ripped past Kamijou’s ears moments later.

  The unmanned fighter squadron storming about high over Russia exploded, wiping out the dozen or so jets all at once. Several of the ones that had moved more organically—probably manned—had their main wings severed, and Kamijou could see from the parachutes that the crews were frantically ejecting.

  The destruction didn’t stop there.

  That blue dot of light must have only flapped its gigantic wings to blow away the unmanned fighter squadron coming its way. But those giant wings destroyed themselves partway through, everything from halfway down breaking off and flying. A huge explosion went off near the horizon where they’d landed.

  Enormous clouds of earthen fragments danced into the air.

  An entire mountain was completely destroyed.

  “Well, I suppose the foundation itself, Angel Fall, was nothing more than a coincidental spell. A summoning method based on a further derivation of it must have some issues with stability.”

  This was insane.

  The numbers difference had been reversed in an instant.

  This was what angels were.

  Beings that simply reigned with absolute supremacy.

  “Still, now things are getting interesting, aren’t they? The science side has been unveiling all kinds of secret weapons—it’s only right that the sorcery side should eventually respond in kind.”

  And deep within the fortress, Fiamma smiled.

  …The Star of Bethlehem is still incomplete. I lifted it up in order to panic Academy City’s surface units, but now that I’ve had Misha Kreutzev act, my victory is assured.

  Yes.

  Something was missing.

  “That parchment.”

  The Soul Arm Fiamma had acquired was for freely accessing Index, who possessed 103,000 grimoires. But that alone wasn’t enough. Several pieces of knowledge were missing regarding truly esoteric secrets, such as angels and God’s Right Seat. The parchment was to complement that. Once he obtained that bridge of knowledge and fed it back into the Star of Bethlehem, only then would Fiamma of the Right’s plans come to fruition.

  “Now, then,” he said in a leisurely tone. “Time to go retrieve it, Misha Kreutzev. He may be weak, but that’s no reason to show mercy. Don’t hesitate, now—use all your power to bring it to me.”

  INTERLUDE FOUR

  Mikoto Misaka witnessed the change as well.

  She was on board an Academy City HsB-02 supersonic bomber. Of course, it wasn’t because she was participating in regular military operations of any kind. What she was doing was mostly…no, it was entirely a hijacking. She’d stuck the underworld special forces team that was supposed to be on this plane in a District 23 hangar.

  Despite its mammoth length of over eighty meters, the only window it had was the one in the front of the cockpit, perhaps because it was a bomber jet. Mikoto had been in the cockpit out of coincidence. Not only windows—the only actual seating in the whole craft was located here.

  She showed her cell phone screen to the pilot, saying, “Anyway, get close to here. I’ll jump out with a parachute after that, and then I’ll be out of your hair. Once you finish your job, you can do whatever you want.”

  On the screen was a still image from a recorded news broadcast.

  It was a reporter trying to report on something with a snowfield as a backdrop, but in the corner of the screen, it showed an Asian boy who appeared to be a civilian.

  It was a poor excuse for a telop, and it even displayed the city from which it was relayed. Go there was the order from this pretty little tyrant.

  “…D-do you have any idea how risky it is to do something like this?”

  “Something like this?” Mikoto frowned. “So you don’t think anything of yourselves for trying to do something like this? They were originally sending a professional team of assassins against a single high school student, right? That doesn’t make you feel anything?”

  “…”

  “It doesn’t matter how much risk is involved or whatever. One of us is putting all his energy into killing a run-of-the-mill high school kid, and one of us is putting all her energy into saving a run-of-the-mill high school kid. Which would you want to stick with? Which would you be prouder of?” she asked dispassionately.

  The pilot quieted down.

  Mikoto didn’t think of herself as a particularly good person, nor did she assume e
veryone she saw, without exception, was a walking lump of kindness. After the incident involving the Sisters and Accelerator, she knew just how dark the shadows lurking in Academy City were—and just how ruthless these creatures called humans could be.

  However.

  She thought this, too, at the same time:

  Not every single person in this world was, without exception, a terribly dark person. Just like that boy had reached out with his right hand and saved her and the Sisters from that hellish experiment, just like the Sisters who had risen again to answer her call, most people had, along with hopeless darkness and greed, a slight but reassuring light residing within them.

  In fact, that was probably why the pilot had gone quiet.

  That was why he hadn’t been able to laugh it off, even though he was fully steeped in the shadows of an underworld organization.

  …Sheesh. This really isn’t my MO. Did something weird infect me? Mikoto scratched her head. All of this is that idiot’s fault! For now, as soon as I see him, I’m punching him in the face!! That’s all— Strategy meeting over!!

  And then it happened.

  It was sudden.

  Grwohhh!! Something gigantic had rapidly risen from out of the white clouds below. This supersonic bomber was quite big in its own right, over eighty meters long, but this object was so huge it made the bomber look like a tiny winged insect in comparison. A giant structure, dozens of miles long. It was like an entire city had floated up into the air—a sight that ignored scientific sensibilities (even for Academy City, commonly ridiculed as residing outside the realm of common sense).

  It sported a ridiculous design.

  The foundation was a big lump of stuff, torn from stone buildings of varying times and cultures, then kneaded together like a ball of clay. Plus, even now, like a cogwheel or a creature, it was changing shape from moment to moment.

  …What the heck is that?

  Mikoto moved closer to the reinforced glass, her eyes glued to the mass.

  Wouldn’t a structure that big floating in the air be a new world record? She didn’t see any wings, rocket engines, or anything like them—in which case, how had it ensured buoyancy? Was the inside hollow, like a balloon or an airship?

  Also…

  …why’s it wriggling like that? Or is it better to treat it more like a big cluster of independently operating robots?

  But what Mikoto was really surprised about wasn’t the giant mass itself.

  On its edge.

  On the end of a structure that stretched out like a bridge, she saw a familiar spiky-haired boy…or so she thought.

  No…way…?!

  By the time Mikoto did a frantic double-take, the supersonic bomber had already passed by. The window only went so far, so even if she turned her head, she couldn’t see any more.

  She was dumbfounded at the unexpected sight, but the pilot couldn’t stay that calm.

  The supersonic bomber’s fuselage was about to collide with a steeple sticking straight out sideways from the mass.

  He hurriedly pulled the yoke, and with a whump, inertial forces went to work. For Mikoto, who wasn’t wearing a seat belt, it resulted in a pseudo zero-gravity experience. Albeit only for a few seconds, her body floated into the air.

  Then she dropped back into her seat with a slam. But she didn’t have time to complain.

  This time, the blue sky, ignoring all weather patterns because they were above the clouds, suddenly changed to midnight, like someone had flicked off a light switch. Combined with the giant structure, dozens of miles long, she could only assume the sight was some kind of prank.

  In the darkness bloomed a light.

  A moonlike glow, pressing up against the inky sky.

  But no.

  What it really was…was a humanoid silhouette, floating idly in the sky, ignoring gravity. It was too far away for her to make out its expression. But she could say this for sure: That was no normal human.

  After all, something that looked like wings had sprouted from its back.

  Strange, inexplicable wings, like crystals, or perhaps a peacock’s plumage. The shortest were under a meter long—the longest were over a hundred. Dozens of the wings had sprouted, all differing in length.

  Mikoto had no time to wonder about it.

  The wings flapped.

  Despite their gigantic size, mere hundred-meter appendages wouldn’t reach them—the sky was too large a place for that. The supersonic bomber had indeed already flown far, far away.

  And yet.

  With a snaaaap!!

  The HsB-02’s fuselage, made of the latest nonmetal materials, suddenly tore in half.

  A slash had ripped the cockpit lengthwise. No, that was wrong. One attack, a single hit, had thoroughly sliced through a giant almost eighty meters long.

  “Are you kidding me?!”

  Mikoto felt on her cheeks the piercing chill that came at high altitudes.

  A moment later, her body was launched out of the plane and into the sky, three thousand meters in the air.

  She couldn’t even cry out.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the pilot who had been with her going into a spinning fall, parachute still on his back. He looked like he could be helpful, but she couldn’t depend on him right now. He didn’t have any responsibility to save her, after all.

  But stronger than Mikoto’s fear of falling was her anger at the giant structure currently getting farther away. Even now, her body was headed straight through the clouds and toward the ground. She’d finally gotten her hands on something—and now she could clearly feel it slipping through her fingers.

  Still, it wouldn’t do any good to die like this.

  Ugh!! What…? What do I do?!

  Switching her train of thought, she directed her gaze toward the ground. There wasn’t even a thousand meters left until impact.

  And then, far below, she spotted a hunk of metal.

  An attack helicopter.

  She couldn’t tell whether it belonged to Academy City or the Russian military, but she’d gladly use anything she could.

  She used magnetism.

  Not to attach herself to the chopper—given her altitude and speed, any unequipped body would simply get smashed upon contact. The important thing here was not too much magnetism, so she wouldn’t fully attach to her target.

  Her body hurtled right past the attack helicopter.

  The force didn’t entirely plaster her to the aircraft, but it did still push her toward it. It slowed Mikoto’s speed of descent softly like a cushion. Strengthening the magnetic force in stages, finely adjusting it so the impact of deceleration wouldn’t crush her, she managed to avoid a lethal falling velocity and continued without hesitation toward the white snowfield.

  The helicopter jerked and slowed as well.

  From the side, it might have looked like she was descending from the helicopter via an invisible rope.

  Once she had her feet on the snow, she cut off the magnetic force completely.

  “Anyway…”

  She was in the middle of a battlefield. The wilderness had very few man-made objects on it, and Academy City and Russian tanks and armored vehicles had deployed sparsely into the area. Perhaps naturally, the wrecks were all originally on the Russian side.

  Getting a whiff of the unpleasant odor of burning fuel, Mikoto looked up into the sky.

  Even using her powerful manipulation of magnetic forces, she probably couldn’t jump three thousand meters into the air from here.

  “How am I gonna get above the clouds?” she muttered before hearing the crunch of feet on snow.

  She checked the magnetic fields and sensed a person about ten meters behind her.

  She turned around sharply—

  “…You…”

  —only to stop.

  The person’s expression remained the same.

  Holding not an Academy City F200R but a rifle made of wood and metal called a Kalashnikov, the girl said, “Misaka’s serial number i
s 10777, explains Misaka politely to the dumbfounded Original.”

  “You mean to tell me you’re working with an Academy City affiliate in Russia?!”

  “The withdrawal battle has ended, so I decided to spend the rest of my time on personal affairs, reports Misaka on her holiday spirit while holding a dangerous rifle in one hand.”

  “Personal affairs…,” repeated Misaka, appalled.

  Misaka number 10777 pointed overhead. “Is the Original not here on personal affairs herself? asks Misaka for confirmation.”

  “…Well, it’s not for business…”

  CHAPTER 7

  Angel of Slaughter in the Skies

  MISHA_the_Angel_“GABRIEL.”

  1

  The colossal tremors also struck the field hospital in the Elizalina Alliance of Independent Nations.

  At the time, from a short distance away, Shiage Hamazura was watching the “healing” Elizalina was performing on Rikou Takitsubo.

  Takitsubo was lying on a makeshift stretcher, hooked up to a clear oxygen mask. Rather than an oxygen tank, the other end of the tube was connected to something that looked like several dried plants ground into incense. They would apparently remove the Crystals that had accumulated in Takitsubo’s body, according to Elizalina, but…

  That was when the massive shaking occurred, and Takitsubo’s body fell from the stretcher onto the floor.

  “Oh, shit! What is this?! Takitsubo!!” cried Hamazura before trying to run over to her, but Elizalina stopped him with a hand.

  With morbidly slender fingers, she removed Takitsubo’s mask and said, “She’s fine. And the treatment is finished, too. The toxins have been removed from her body.”

  “…”

  She said it so easily it didn’t feel real to Hamazura.

  The Crystals problem standing in their way had been so massive.

  And now…?

  It was, so simply, gone?

  Elizalina’s additional explanation helped to ease his unnerved state: “Still, this only removed the unassimilated toxins. It didn’t cure entire already-affected sections. You’ll need to search for a different approach to cure the drug’s lingering aftereffects,” she said, putting out the tiny kindling smoldering in the incense. “…Raising one’s abilities through forceful methods will only worsen the feedback. I have never exactly appreciated this so-called scientific efficiency.”