A Certain Magical Index, Vol. 21

by Kazuma Kamachi

  “Damn it…!!”

  He heard a voice. He saw someone running through the snow to him. A young man. Asian. If he recalled correctly—one of the people using that Russian anti-air gun in an attempt to defend that settlement from the foreign mercenary unit.

  “What happened? Those aren’t just any gunshot wounds. What happened, damn it?! We’re already busy with the Steam Dispenser stuff!! Hey, Takitsubo, I don’t know much about first aid. Can you do something?!”

  The pair squatted down next to Acqua and took out what appeared to be bandages. However, Acqua’s expression never changed. He knew his own body.

  “Don’t…bother,” he said, working his mouth that was filled with the taste of blood. “In any case, I will not last long. This is a battlefield. There will be no lack of need for medical supplies. Find someone else or consider the future and set it aside for that. Either way, there is no reason to waste it now.”

  “Shut up.”

  “I cannot reveal the details, but I just picked a fight with the man behind this entire war. I succeeded in frustrating his plans for now, but I cannot deny the possibility of a follow-up attack. It’s dangerous to be here. Leave me and go.”

  “Didn’t you hear what I just fucking said?! If that’s the case, I definitely can’t leave you!! I’m so sick of this already!! I’m not gonna watch anyone else die in front of me!!”

  “I’ve fulfilled my objective. I am nothing but a hindrance now.”

  “Then…what about the people waiting for you?” squeezed out Hamazura.

  Acqua’s motions paused for a moment.

  Hamazura continued, “That’s how you’ve lived your life until now, right? When you helped Digurv and me and the others, it wasn’t because we were special to you. That’s just how you’ve lived up till now!! Someone like that could never be alone. Even if you don’t think about it, you have a lot of people behind you. What about all those people, huh?!”

  It was a strength that didn’t exist in Acqua.

  Because of that, he looked steadily at this man named Shiage Hamazura.

  Each one of his words was like a wedge.

  A wedge to stop his body as it continued to slide down the road to death.

  Hamazura’s words were certainly not simple salvation.

  In fact, the force with which he drove them in actually gave him pain.

  However.

  Those words just barely held Acqua together.

  “You died protecting the world. You fell defending others. Do you think they’ll be happy with any of that stuff?! Of course not!! Was your whole reason for fighting to watch those waiting for you cry while you put smiles on other people’s faces?! I don’t think so!!”

  What came to his mind then, with all the blood lost and his consciousness hazy, was that self-satisfied Knight Leader, the old man from the Astrologers’ Brigade, and the couple threatened by the Knights of Orleans.

  And.

  The third princess of Britain.

  “…Stand up, hero.”

  Not even caring anymore that he was wounded to the verge of death, Hamazura grabbed Acqua by the collar.

  He grabbed him and said this:

  “Staaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuup!!!!!!”

  There was a whmmp.

  It was the sound of Acqua, who had fallen faceup, grabbing onto the snowy land with his hand.

  He could hear a pulse.

  He was still alive.

  This wasn’t the end.

  If he could still move…

  “Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh!!”

  Even as his body audibly creaked and cracked, even as still more fresh red blood spurted from him, Acqua of the Back stood up once again.

  His power as a saint had been lost.

  Nor could he use his power as one of God’s Right Seat.

  His body had been torn apart and reduced to that of any other normal person, Acqua nevertheless gritted his teeth and began to temper mana inside him again. He allocated that power only to controlling his physical body, trying to keep any more blood from seeping out of his wounds.

  He barely had any strength left.

  He probably couldn’t even heft that sword, taller than he was, that he’d brought with him as his weapon all this time.

  But.

  So what?

  The title of true hero wasn’t for people who gave up after falling down one time.

  It was for those who got back up, again and again, in response to the people’s cries.

  9

  “I see.”

  Fiamma of the Right picked up his staff.

  The staff with the Index-remote-controlling Soul Arm affixed to the top, which he used to control the archangel.

  Gabriel had apparently headed for the surface in pursuit of the parchment, but she had failed to retrieve it. That parchment had all the necessary information for Project Bethlehem.

  But it wasn’t an issue.

  Fiamma’s and Gabriel’s senses were linked. And Gabriel’s perception capabilities were far greater than that of humans. Even if the parchment was tucked away in the target’s pocket, he could obtain the magical info written on it.

  He’d already gotten the knowledge he needed.

  Fiamma had extremely deep knowledge regarding Michael. And after gleaning the necessary knowledge from the 103,000 grimoires, he could clear away the rest of the obstacles in his way, too.

  But there was one thing that even he didn’t have.

  The other archangels aside from Michael—in other words, the symbols of the other members of God’s Right Seat.

  The most secret of secrets in the Russian Church, that has reorganized unconfirmed information collected from all over Russia and inferred spells for each angel. If I can obtain that, I will have no problems left.

  He didn’t need this staff anymore.

  He removed the Soul Arm for controlling Index attached to the top.

  “I see, I see, I see.”

  He twirled the staff around.

  Then smiled pleasantly and said:

  “Damn you, you filthy piece of shit.”

  Crack.

  He broke the staff in two.

  After tossing the scraps aside, Fiamma smoothly held out his right hand. He had a rough position. He held his palm in that direction, then muttered something under his breath.

  Sound vanished.

  An intense flash of light burst forth.

  It crushed and melted the walls of the Star of Bethlehem in one hit, then blew away several buildings as well, charging in a straight line toward its target.

  He didn’t get any feedback.

  And if he’d gotten too much, that would have been a problem anyway.

  After all, it had probably been repelled by the right arm in question.

  Fiamma heard a strange crackling noise from around his right shoulder. His third arm, which had disintegrated before, was on the verge of separating. But for Fiamma, now bolstered by the knowledge in the 103,000 volumes, it didn’t present much of an obstacle.

  Tap.

  He took just one step forward.

  And with only that, Fiamma’s body traveled over five kilometers. Even if there was no floor along the way, even if it was through the very air, it didn’t matter. If there was an open, level route, he could move as far as he wanted.

  He arrived in a room.

  It was the ritual site where he’d called the archangel using Sasha Kreutzev’s body. His earlier attack had caused over half the room to collapse, and most of its interior furnishings had been dropped onto a lower level as though something had dragged them down there. The boy he was looking for stood alone at the ritual site. He also spotted something red in the hole leading to the lower layer. Maybe someone had fallen into it, trapped by the collapse.

  “You seem to enjoy causing me tro
uble,” said Fiamma—one hand toying with the Soul Arm used for remotely controlling Index. “Thanks to you, I had to execute the ritual before Academy City or Britain could interfere. Which means I’ll be taking that right arm of yours now.”

  “…You think it’ll go that easy? You don’t have Misha anymore. I still don’t know why things went so well, but humans managed to beat an archangel. No matter how you think about it, the scales are tipping in our favor.”

  “That doesn’t warrant any worry on my part,” said Fiamma, pointing to the sky.

  The building’s walls and ceiling had been blown up by his attack. Thanks to that, the unnatural night sky beyond the collapsed structural material was visible.

  Yes.

  The spiky-haired boy must have realized.

  That even though the archangel Misha Kreutzev had been defeated, the sky hadn’t changed at all—and why that was significant.

  “The angel’s role ended after it changed the night sky to my liking,” described Fiamma—while spreading his third arm out farther. “I talked about how the symbols of Uriel and Raphael were shifted, out of place, right? And how Misha Kreutzev’s name originates in Michael—and how it is unfit to name itself Gabriel.”

  The spiky-haired boy seemed to be on his guard, but it was too late.

  Now that Fiamma was talking about it, it was over.

  “I lifted only the Star of Bethlehem into the incomplete skies filled with telesma after erasing all stars from the sky using Gabriel as part of a ceremony to regulate a great flow of power and reset the four aspects…You defeated the magic circle that Misha covered a portion of the sky with during Angel Fall, as well as the Croce di Pietro, which used the positions of the stars as seen from earth. I don’t need to explain to you how crucial the magical meaning is that comes with the idea of controlling the skies like a screen. To begin with, the prophet knew of Jesus’s birth by the appearance of a certain star in the sky. The large-scale spell I’m using essentially applies that legendary truth.

  “Still, I also affected the flow of power on the surface by moderately destroying churches and temples all over the world, too,” added Fiamma.

  Heaven and earth.

  Three and four.

  In other words, he now had exclusive possession of all numbers crucial to Crossist culture.

  “What…? What are you trying…to…?”

  “I’ll ask you instead. You didn’t think this would be over just because the Star of Bethlehem had risen, did you?” jeered Fiamma. “You know how it is. I’m just saying I have to prepare the location properly before I can execute the spell I want. Phase one is just about over, but despite how early it is, there’s a nice little bonus in store.”

  Ker-crack!! went a strange noise.

  A starry sky spread out.

  First was yellow, then red, then blue, and finally green. Oddly colored stars began spreading across the pitch-black night sky, as if putting a veil over it, all in time to Fiamma’s signal.

  The Star of Bethlehem was a gargantuan planetarium.

  “Did you know this little tidbit?”

  A starry sky of colors absolutely impossible in nature. An amateur with no knowledge of sorcery would never be able to decipher the detailed meaning behind it. But somewhere, deep inside his very life force, he understood. Understood this clear, true world. Understood the feeling of the four aspects returning to their original locations.

  “Fire, water, wind, and earth—each one of these four aspects holds up the edge of its respective power, but at the same time, manipulating one aspect affects, in a broad sense, all the other aspects as well. That’s why in large-scale rituals, excluding realistic combat actions, it’s fundamental to ready not one symbolic weapon, but the entire set. Even if that ritual is of fire. In other words, the ability to control all four aspects rested within my fire from the beginning. I should have gained magnificent power by controlling them all…If only a distortion hadn’t existed in those aspects worldwide.”

  To which Fiamma explained:

  “One can only fully wield true power in a true world.”

  Boom!!!!!! Something invisible exploded out of his body.

  It was intent to kill.

  A force overwhelming enough to make Kamijou feel like he was on pins and needles.

  “…”

  But he had no reason to back off.

  The man in front of him was holding the Soul Arm that could remotely control Index. To destroy that, he’d have to defeat the root cause of this aura.

  Kamijou clenched his right hand into a tight fist.

  His mind naturally drew toward Fiamma’s right shoulder.

  To the third arm.

  Writhing.

  Something massive, some power that should have caused it to disintegrate, was gathering in it.

  “It’s time I showed you the meaning of true power.”

  COMBAT REPORT

  Mikoto was sitting wearily on a snowfield in Russia.

  As she did, the Sister spoke to her, saying, “Have you calmed down? asks Misaka.”

  “Yeah…Sorry about that. Could you explain this to me again?”

  “Nu-AD1967. Launch preparations for an old Soviet strategic nuclear warhead are currently underway, says Misaka, summarizing her report.”

  “Okay, wait. Wait a second. A nuclear warhead—a nuke? You mean the president of Russia gave the go-ahead on it?”

  As Mikoto blanched, the Sister’s face remained expressionless. She tilted her head slightly.

  “No conversations regarding adjustments are occurring on normal military channels, says Misaka, confirming with herself. In addition, there are no visible signs of wireless transmissions of nuclear launch codes, supplements Misaka. This is only a speculation, but I believe this is an act by an independent group led by a man named Nikolai Tolstoj.”

  “What’s that mean…?” Mikoto frowned. “You’re telling me a Russian unit loaded a nuclear warhead into a missile without asking? But they wouldn’t be able to detonate it without the launch codes from their leader, right?”

  If it didn’t work that way, they ran the risk of any old soldier with dangerous ideas pulling the trigger on the extinction of humanity. This nation had many missiles and several launch facilities; their security for it should have been airtight.

  “Not necessarily, says Misaka, listening in on the communications with a troubled face.”

  “You haven’t batted an eye.”

  “It seems the independent unit plans to use an exchange warhead, answers Misaka in mild annoyance.” The Sister shook her head. “Have you heard the story that right after the Cold War between east and west ended, several nuclear warheads and radioactive materials flowed out of Russia, whose infrastructure had collapsed at the time? asks Misaka for confirmation.”

  “Well, I guess I’ve heard the story before, but…not how much is truth and how much is just an urban legend.”

  “Then what about how a large number of nuclear scientists and technical information left the country at the same time?”

  “…”

  “These warheads were traded with the purpose of using them, but most of them would have been actually impossible to detonate because of the lack of authentication codes, says Misaka. But exceptions exist for certain missiles. Nuclear missile security locks are set into an outer shell surrounding the nuclear matter, explains Misaka. In other words—”

  “If they take out the insides, then put that into a new outer shell they created…”

  “They would be able to detonate the nuclear matter, concludes Misaka. And with precisely the same power, adds Misaka.”

  The Sister spoke fluidly.

  It seemed like more information than she could get just by listening in on those military communications just now. Maybe she was getting intel in real time by using the Misaka network.

  “After the Soviet Union collapsed, these exchange warheads cropped up in manufacturing projects at multiple sites, mainly ones with the aim of gaining
independence from Russia—but when Russia’s national power recovered, they began a special military operation to aggressively hunt them down, allegedly to take responsibility for their own nukes and contribute to world peace, explains Misaka. In official records, these exchange warheads were dismantled and their densities lowered before they used them as fuel for nuclear reactors.”

  “But the independent team actually saved all the ones they recovered? As nuclear weapons they could fire whenever they wanted, without the president’s permission?”

  “They seem to have prepared vehicular launchers in order to fire an exchange warhead using the Nu-AD1967 at that fortress up in the sky, says Misaka, revealing their plans.”

  “You’re kidding, right…?” murmured Mikoto.

  No matter how incomprehensible that fortress was, and no matter how many times the man on it had returned alive from deadly battlefields, it would be horrific if anything like that detonated there.

  And the damage wouldn’t stop there, either.

  If that strange fortress had some sort of crazy defensive system that could even withstand nuclear explosions, it still wouldn’t end on a happy note.

  The issue was the altitude of the fortress they were targeting.

  “…Wasn’t America or someone researching safer, smaller-scale nuclear warheads?”

  “Are you referring to the project of developing nuclear weapons with destructive scope ranges from three to five kilometers across, which would allow them to deploy nuclear weapons while also avoiding spreading the fallout into the sky? confirms Misaka. Misaka believes those were designed for destroying underground facilities.”

  Right.

  Even during the overheated nuclear arms race during the Cold War, there was a taboo: to restrict the ensuing fallout to below certain altitudes. It was so taboo that instead of creating one giant bomb, they created a warhead called a MIRV that would basically launch an entire rain of little nuclear bombs.

  What was the reason for not spreading the fallout above a certain altitude?

  What was so concerning that the great powers, who were considering even full-blown nuclear war, would nevertheless restrain themselves to absolute avoidance of doing so?