A Certain Magical Index, Vol. 14

by Kazuma Kamachi

  Touma Kamijou wasn’t a person of any particular renown.

  If she’d wanted him to do something, all she had to do was talk down to him and not let him answer.

  The thought made him grip his right hand.

  “I’ll explain later. We don’t have time,” said Tsuchimikado. “We’re going to District 23. There’s a plane ready. Monaka Oyafune prepared it with her power just for this. I’m not about to let that go to waste.”

  “This…is bullshit…,” muttered Kamijou as he followed Tsuchimikado out of the children’s park.

  The only thing they left behind in the park was a blood-covered Monaka Oyafune.

  As he listened to the ambulance sirens in the distance, his jaw was tight.

  8

  What Mikoto Misaka found was a small children’s park.

  The place looked like they’d been building the dormitories nearby, but they had space left over, so they’d made it into a park…rather than having planned it out beforehand.

  Several vehicles were parked outside the entrance.

  They were Anti-Skill’s.

  Mikoto was about to get a closer look when a man dressed in black blocked her way like a wall. Several layers of yellow tape blocked off the entrance as well, cordoning off the space.

  She glimpsed inside the park.

  There were several Anti-Skill men, like the one blocking her now, huddled together, but no other “normal person” was present. They were clustered near a bench at the park’s edge and seemed to be investigating something.

  She didn’t know what had happened.

  She didn’t know what had happened, but it looked like it was already over.

  INTERLUDE TWO

  “…God’s Right Seat apparently exists to overcome original sin.”

  Lidvia Lorenzetti’s voice echoed through the interrogation room in the Tower of London.

  Stiyl and Agnes, listening carefully, both raised an eyebrow. Nothing was more familiar to a Crossist disciple than original sin.

  “The sin Adam and Eve received when they ate the fruit of knowledge…and the sin all of humanity bears as their children.”

  “That is the Old Testament’s say on the matter,” Lidvia noted. “In the New Testament, the Son of God takes on the role of erasing sin. When he was crucified on the cross, he single-handedly took all humanity’s sin upon himself to erase it all. Because of this, all who pray to the cross, eat the body and drink the blood of Christ at Mass, and continue to be faithful until their very last moments…Their sin will be washed away at the hour of judgment and they will be led to heaven. That’s the idea anyway.

  “…However,” she said with a pause, “there are exceptions to this.”

  “Exceptions?” repeated Agnes as she compiled a record on a piece of parchment. Stiyl glared at her, but the conversation proceeded.

  “Yes, an exception to the sin given to all of humanity…”

  “The Virgin Mary,” finished Stiyl, finding the answer already.

  Biagio, fastened to the chair next to Lidvia’s, tsked quietly.

  Regardless, Stiyl continued, “As the vessel who gave birth to the Son of God, she was in deep contact with the Holy Spirit, and her sin disappeared. The Immaculate Conception, as it’s called. In other words, original sin didn’t exist for Mary. Even though all of humanity are Adam and Eve’s children and shoulder their original sin, and that property should have been passed on to the child as well.”

  “Which means there are exceptions,” agreed Lidvia. “To begin with, in the New Testament, the Son of God walked the path to his execution precisely because there was no other way to cleanse original sin than for him to shoulder it. If one considers that, along with the fact that the sin vanished from the Virgin Mary, I believe the answer follows naturally.”

  “…That there’s some other way to erase original sin rather than staying faithful to the Son of God?”

  “A spell to trick it, as it were. I’ve heard God’s Right Seat has succeeded in weakening their sin as much as possible, but they haven’t yet been able to erase it completely.”

  Though bound to her chair, she spoke so calmly that it was questionable if she even felt the restraints.

  “However, though their erasure of their sin is imperfect, they have apparently gained magical knowledge surpassing normal humans. As it goes, they can even cast spells that utilize angels and kings, ones said to be impossible for ‘humans’ normally.”

  “…Well, man’s end goal is to erase original sin, after all. If that were possible, the very qualities that make us human would shift and become something closer to an angel. But…”

  “Yes. Original sin is synonymous with the fruit of knowledge, and losing it means normal sorcerers would lose the ability to use normal magic…A special property, if you will.”

  “Hmm.” Stiyl exhaled slightly.

  Erasing original sin.

  An idea kept in the deepest annals of Crossism’s largest denomination, Roman Orthodoxy; it seemed incredibly appropriate to call it a bomb.

  In Crossism, it was believed that true happiness was achieved through the expunging of original sin by constant devotion, then being guided to God’s new holy land after the Last Judgment. Dedicating their days to researching esoteric methods to get rid of original sin was very Roman Orthodox of them.

  After summing his thoughts up, he pressed on with Lidvia: “Which means God’s Right Seat’s endgame is to completely erase what little original sin still remains in their bodies…Is that so?”

  If they succeeded, God’s Right Seat would truly be able to freely use angelic spells. If that happened, even saints wouldn’t be able to stop them.

  “Heh-heh.” Lidvia chuckled.

  “Am I wrong?”

  “You are. For God’s Right Seat, erasing original sin is nothing but a means to an end. Their final goal is something else.”

  “…Fully removing original sin is just insane. And now you’re telling me that’s only a means?”

  Then what the devil is their real goal?

  Lidvia smiled quietly. “They’ve flaunted their goal from the very beginning.”

  “What?”

  “…God’s Right Seat. That is their destination.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Far from a Sorcerer

  Power_Instigation.

  1

  Academy City School District 23.

  Specializing solely in the aviation and space industries, all the important airports in the city converged there.

  This district lacked the crowded high-rise landscapes of the others, featuring only rows upon rows of runways and rocket launch sites. Flat asphalt went on as far as the eye could see, with control towers and experimental stations sparsely dotting the ground.

  Kamijou stepped off the train and onto the platform, staring out at the scenery. “It’s like a ranch made of stone and iron…”

  They’d fought Oriana Thomson here during the Daihasei Festival as well, but he was getting the impression that security today was even tighter than it had been then.

  He went over to the station’s coin lockers to stow the grocery bags in his hands. All the lockers in the city were airtight, and they even had refrigeration and freezing options. Probably thanks to all the scientists here.

  Still…

  “…Man, that’s expensive. How is this a normal price for one hour?!”

  “Meowsa. Seems more economical to just get rid of your groceries now, then visit a cheap supermarket tomorrow and buy more.”

  Tsuchimikado had a point, but Kamijou didn’t feel like letting food go to waste. After putting everything in a locker and giving his fingerprint to lock it, he decided to turn on the refrigeration function and left.

  As he walked through the station toward the exit, he asked his classmate, “If we’re in District 23, does that mean we’re going on an airplane?”

  “Well, yeah. We’re going to another country, after all.”

  “Seriously?! …Wait, do we have pa
ssports?”

  “Nope,” came the immediate, curt reply.

  Kamijou grew quiet.

  Tsuchimikado droned on, “It’s not like we’re going overseas for a vacation, boyo. This’ll all be off the books. If they find us out, we’re in for some international criticism. We’re nyaat gonna get anywhere if we whine about getting a couple of emigration stamps.”

  “O-oh.”

  There was a lot Kamijou wanted to ask, but Tsuchimikado had been so up front with him that he had to wonder if his way wasn’t actually better.

  Outside the station, there was a large-scale bus terminal. In general, one didn’t walk around District 23; they used regulated buses. Tsuchimikado picked out a bus headed for an international airport and climbed aboard. Kamijou followed suit.

  The roads in District 23 were mostly straight, it being no buildings and all runways. The speed limit was pretty lax here, too—they passed a road sign saying any speed up to one hundred kilometers per hour was okay.

  Out his window were plains made of asphalt, and even the horizon was constructed and gray. From beyond the horizon, he could see white steam spouting up and forming cumulonimbus clouds.

  A low rumbling noise turned into a quake, quickly making the windows rattle.

  Tsuchimikado stared in that direction, muttering, “A rocket, huh? Looks like it launched safely, nyo?”

  Kamijou took out his phone and turned on the TV app. The news was showing a rocket launch from various angles. “They’re saying it’s the fourth satellite Academy City has made,” he murmured. “Wonder what the truth is.”

  “One thing they’re after by launching a rocket now is making everyone else start to ask questions. They’ll guess anything—from the city launching military satellites to testing ICBMs…The more possibilities are out there, the better we can probably hold everyone else in check, nya~.”

  So this is what an information war is like…, thought Kamijou, only to have a realization strike him. “…Huh. Now that I think about her, what about Index?” He was opposed to taking her into danger, but nonetheless, he worried about leaving her alone in a room without any food.

  “That’s all right, Kammy—Maika’s gonna be going to your room. Her usual gluttonous face is probably glowing thirty percent brighter right about meow~.”

  On one hand, that was a relief. On the other, he was taken aback; had the meaning of his existence been reduced to “guy who made food for Index”?

  In the meantime, the bus pulled up in front of the international airport. As Kamijou got off onto the asphalt, he checked the time on his cell phone. “Hey, Tsuchimikado. By the way, where are we going?”

  “France,” answered Tsuchimikado offhandedly.

  “Ugeh?! Europe? Another long trip…Wait, how many nights are we staying there? And we’ll be on the plane for a pretty long time…About ten hours?”

  “Nah, we’ll get there in a little over one, nya know~?”

  “Huh?” blurted out Kamijou. It was a mysterious declaration.

  Tsuchimikado seemed to think explaining would be a hassle, so he pointed toward a runway somewhat farther away from the airport terminal. Several large passenger planes, each dozens of meters in length, sat parked in a row. “Look, we’re getting on one of them~.”

  “…You’re kidding me,” said Kamijou, nearly speechless, asking his friend for confirmation. He’d been on one of those planes once before. “Um, that kind of plane? If I recall correctly, the kind we used to get back to Japan from Venice…”

  “Yep, seems like it, nya. I didn’t have much to do with the Queen of the Adriatic incident, so I don’t know the details.”

  “…the kind that can go seven thousand kilometers per hour?”

  “Ha-ha-ha,” laughed Tsuchimikado. “Everything’s better faster, right?”

  “This is way too fast!! Don’t you get it? When you’re in one of them, it feels like a thick iron plate is slowly crushing your body! Index was finally starting to open her heart to science a little bit, but after riding in one of those, she locked up her shutters tight!!”

  He had another anecdote: Despite the situation, she’d unreasonably ordered an in-flight meal, which proceeded to end up all over the wall behind them in a magnificent scattershot.

  “Please. Kammy, this is unofficial foreign work. You didn’t think we’d be taking our time getting to France, eating some in-flight meals and watching movies, did you?”

  “W-well, I guess that wouldn’t feel very urgent…Wait, we’re seriously getting on one of them? M-Mr. Kamijou doesn’t really think he can recommend that!!”

  “It’ll be fine. Once we get past Mach 3, your amateur’s senses won’t know the difference, nya~.”

  “What the heck part of that is supposed to be fine?!”

  Despite his weary complaints, Tsuchimikado didn’t pay attention; he just said, “We’ll talk on the plane.”

  The young man couldn’t do anything if these were the only planes available to them. After he led Kamijou past business-use doors and roads instead of using any typical gates, they headed for the supersonic passenger jets.

  2

  “A Soul Arm called the document—that’s the key this time, nya.”

  Tsuchimikado’s words echoed through the spacious interior.

  The supersonic passenger plane was a size bigger than normal jumbo jets. Aside from the crew, they were the only two using it right now, and that made it feel big enough to inspire loneliness.

  Since they were the only ones aboard anyway, Kamijou and Tsuchimikado sat right in the middle of first class. Unlike the packed-in economy class seats, these had enough space to stretch one’s legs and then some.

  In that plane, Tsuchimikado looked at Kamijou from the next seat over. “Its full name is the Document of Constantine,” he said. “Back when Crossism had just started, they faced persecution by the Roman Empire. The first emperor of Rome to officially acknowledge the religion was Emperor Constantine. The document is something he wrote for the Roman Orthodox Church’s benefit.”

  The conversation wasn’t the kind friendly classmates had with one another. Motoharu Tsuchimikado had already become a sorcerer.

  “They wrote in the document that the Roman pope was the highest authority of Crossism and that Constantine would give the right to all of the land he governed in Europe to the Roman pope. Basically, most of Europe belonged to Emperor Constantine, and he handed over possession of it to the Roman pope and told everyone who lived there to follow Roman Orthodoxy…A certificate suspiciously good for the Roman Orthodox Church.”

  As Tsuchimikado spoke, he fiddled with the touch screen LCD next to his seat.

  “As for its power as a Soul Arm…Yeah, it’s said to be like a compass. If you use the document anywhere inside the lands Emperor Constantine governed 1,700 years ago, it still displays a seal that says this land is a legacy of said emperor to this day. Since it treats his legacy as belonging to the Church, it follows that the Church retains sole authority regarding the development and usage of any land or item its seal reacts to, nya.”

  He peered at Kamijou’s face from the next seat over. “Kammy, are you listening to me like you’re supposed to, nya?”

  “Oghghghghghhhhhghghghoghghoghghohhbhbffght!!”

  Kamijou couldn’t answer the question.

  Seven thousand kilometers per hour.

  The massive g-force that speed created was crushing Touma Kamijou’s internal organs. He wasn’t exactly in a condition to talk. An analogy might be someone pushing a basketball into one’s gut, then also stomping on it from above as hard as they could.

  Tsuchimikado, nonchalant about the whole situation, was the abnormal one here. “Okay, fine. I’ll just keep talking.”

  “Ugehgh!!”

  As Tsuchimikado listened to Kamijou’s garbled grunts, indistinguishable between answers and groans, he calmly continued, “Like I said before, it’s really fishy if the document was even authentic. Actually, scholars in the fifteenth century declared it
was a fake. Even practically speaking, it was a lie. The document’s true power—its power as a Soul Arm—wasn’t nearly that weak.”

  “Gigigighhhhghuughh!!”

  “Its real powers are way more wide reaching. It actually has the power to make anything the Roman pope says into ‘correct information,’” he said with whispered smoothness. “For example, if the pope declared that such and such a religion was disturbing the peace and was the enemy of mankind, it would become absolutely correct that very instant. If he announced that if you prayed to God and put your hands on a burning metal plate, you wouldn’t get burned, then they’d actually believe that, even without any justification.”

  “Ooohhhhhhheehhheeee!!”

  “Hey, Kammy, could you look at me when I’m talking to you, nya?”

  Kamijou’s upper body jerked and twitched. Still, somehow he managed to croak out a few words. “Document…usage…an’thng pope sez…all…b’comz correct…yah?”

  He seemed to have kept up with the conversation, so he must have been listening, even in the current situation. This was Kamijou’s last resort—figuring it would be easier on him to talk than to stay quiet.

  “So then…izzit like…alch’mist’s…Ars Magna…grant any…wish…ohwhh!!”

  “No, it’s not like that, nyo~,” said Tsuchimikado in a cheerful voice, like he might start humming a tune. “Its only effect is that it makes people believe something is correct. It just makes them think the pope can’t possibly say anything wrong, no matter how ridiculous it is, you knyow? It won’t actually change the laws of nature or anything.”

  He fiddled with the small monitor attached to his seat’s armrest.

  “Plus, the Soul Arm only makes those of the Church believe something is ‘correct.’ It can’t control anyone who couldn’t care less about what the Church thinks is right or who didn’t mind being wrong in the first place. For better or worse, it’s a Soul Arm that exists for the Church, nya.”