A Certain Magical Index, Vol. 22

Home > Other > A Certain Magical Index, Vol. 22 > Page 5
A Certain Magical Index, Vol. 22 Page 5

by Kazuma Kamachi


  The missiles immediately lost their mark and fell away in other directions.

  Several explosions went off, and even though they didn’t hit her directly, Mikoto felt like she’d just been slapped across the face. But she ignored it and looked forward.

  “Keep going!! If we retreat, we’ll just give them time to prepare another volley! We’ll take them all out right now!!”

  “Mi…Misa…”

  “?”

  “Misa—serious—kami—electro-interference—sakami—network—sakamisaka—connection severed—misa—emergency—kamisa—restoration—kamisaka-blub-blub.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa!! Are you losing it?! What happened?! Wait, what? You just now realized you have a vulnerability to high-intensity jamming from the strongest ability of your type?”

  As the Sister began to writhe into a trance in the driver’s seat, Mikoto hastily cut off her electromagnetic wave emissions.

  “Phew…A mass-production model could never match the original, says Misaka, reaffirming her own position in a somewhat self-deprecating manner.”

  Obviously, though, if she stopped the jamming, they’d had no way of avoiding the brunt of the enemy’s next bombardment.

  “Just charge!!” shouted Mikoto. “If we get close enough, they’ll be too afraid of getting caught in the explosions to keep up these huge missile volleys!!”

  Vrrooom!! The diesel engine roared as if in response. Not even two kilometers remained between them and the point where the surface-to-surface missiles had originated.

  The independent unit seemed to have given up on the artillery attack, but instead, they sent a formation of tanks out from their hiding places behind a hill. Though Mikoto and the Sister’s tank could probably survive a few hits, taking concentrated fire from dozens of main guns would undoubtedly be more than enough to turn them into a pile of scrap.

  “This is only an estimate, but we’ll be blown up twenty times before we cross five hundred meters, says Misa—”

  “Then I’ll finish things before that happens!!”

  A black shadow swayed and squirmed around Mikoto’s tank.

  No, that wasn’t right.

  It was actually a huge amount of iron sand, which had been sleeping beneath the snow. Mikoto had ripped every last bit she could find in the surrounding area out to about two hundred meters, and was using magnetic force to have it all accompany her.

  From the enemy’s point of view, it must have looked like a solid wall.

  A wall of hopelessness, like a giant tsunami about to make landfall.

  This was what it meant to face the number three Level Five.

  Long-range attacks weren’t all she had up her sleeves.

  Mikoto only knew of two people she couldn’t steamroll no matter what, even with this adaptability. Positive and negative. Just two espers, standing at opposite poles.

  “Gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!”

  Along with her shout, the massive wave of iron sand caught up to Mikoto from above and shot toward the enemy line a step ahead. Like a roaring tsunami, or maybe like a living snake, the mountain of iron sand swept over the enemy’s defensive positions at a high speed, and even the Russian independent unit didn’t seem able to deal with it.

  Of course they couldn’t.

  A vortex of iron sand wouldn’t so much as flinch even if they shot at it, no matter how intense the gunfire.

  The tank, driven by the Sister, leisurely plunged toward the center of the chaotic enemy lines. Mikoto leaned completely out of the hatch and focused her gaze straight ahead.

  A giant truck-like vehicle sat at the center of the enemy formation. It was unique, with over twenty wheels, bigger even than a passenger car on a train. But the part where the truck’s bed should have been had instead been loaded with a very long tube. Stood up on its end using an oil hydraulic cylinder, it was probably the platform for the missile with the Nu-AD1967 on board.

  Then, as if to make the situation even more urgent, flames burst from its rear end.

  Mikoto took a mighty leap from the top of the tank as it slid sideways over the snow.

  …I don’t care if it’s an ICBM or a strategic warhead with its outer shell replaced. Fundamentally, these systems are controlled electronically. One lightning lance, and it’ll be useless.

  Using Railgun would be careless—she wanted to prevent any nuclear material from leaking out. Right now, it would be safer and more certain to destroy only the control circuits to turn this weapon into a pile of garbage.

  Right as the arms holding the missile in place were about to break away, Mikoto, in midair, focused on her bangs.

  With a spark of pale blue, Mikoto yelled at the top of her lungs.

  “Blow up!!”

  CHAPTER 10

  Final Spell Preparations Completed

  Rebirth_the…

  1

  Sasha Kreutzev ran through the Star of Bethlehem.

  The Star of Bethlehem: a temple so large you couldn’t find anything else like it in Crossist history. Inside, however, it was filled with a terrifying silence. Not a single warrior-monk could be seen: a fact that seemed to implicitly put on display the inner workings of the person known as Fiamma of the Right, this fortress’s architect. On a fundamental level, the man didn’t place his trust in things like friends or comrades. That was why the fortress had taken this form.

  This was where Sasha had been cut off from the young student from Academy City by Fiamma’s attack.

  Ideally, she was supposed to back him up right at that very moment, but she’d learned in the Elizalina Alliance of Independent Nations that she had no chance of winning in a straight fight. That man named Fiamma was an absolute monster. He’d nearly surpassed the laws of sorcery.

  However.

  It was a different story if she wasn’t up against Fiamma of the Right personally.

  …Personal opinion. This temple and the altered night sky are deeply linked to Project Bethlehem’s foundation. And chances are high that Fiamma and the Star of Bethlehem are magically connected so he can control it.

  Still carefully observing her surroundings without fail, Sasha darted through the temple’s hallways.

  …As an addendum, even if I can’t challenge Fiamma in a normal fight, it’s possible an indirect attack on the Star of Bethlehem will affect him.

  In any case, she needed to hurry.

  She didn’t know the details of that boy’s identity, but he didn’t seem like he knew any sorcery. The Russian Catholic Church’s intrinsic principle was the inspection and removal of the occult, which meant he was someone they needed to protect. The very fact that she was using an amateur as a way to buy time against a monster of that caliber was enough to make her want to punish herself.

  …But what am I supposed to target?! The Star of Bethlehem temple is huge—over forty kilometers in radius. Simply searching for an appropriate spot will take considerable time!!

  In her haste, Sasha suddenly heard a strange voice from behind the pillars across from her.

  “Bum-ba-ba-buummmm!!”

  “?!”

  Her body stiffened up like a startled cat, and she automatically pulled the L-shaped crowbar off her waist belt. But when she whipped it out for a quickdraw strike, the metal tip didn’t pierce the body of the speaker.

  What it met instead was the Steel Gloves.

  The Soul Arm that looked like a Frankenstein-esque mechanical arm and the crowbar customized for torture clashed, sending brilliant sparks bursting into the air.

  The voice belonged to a girl whose outfit resembled a lacrosse uniform with a jacket thrown over it. Most striking was the swaying, manmade, taillike thing coming out of the back of her miniskirt.

  “Man, everything was fine right up until I had to use the Steel Gloves to latch on to an outer wall when the Star of Bethlehem started rising up. I tried to construct a line to contact Bayloupe and the others on the ground, but this fortress’s defenses were tighter than I thought, an
d I couldn’t open up a hole. Right now, I’m in the middle of memorizing every bit of this fortress’s technology that I can—for the sake of Britain’s future. I got separated from that crucial boy, and I’ve been taking little detours to look for anyone who got lost.”

  Without caring that she’d been hit by the crowbar, the black-haired girl continued. “You’re a Russian Catholic, right? You seemed distressed, so I came to give you a rundown of my pricing plans. I suggest the stopover course. And if you act now, I’ll throw in a discount.”

  “…?”

  As Sasha tilted her little head, the black-haired girl dexterously moved her “tail” to indicate a direction with its tip. It pointed toward the temple’s lower section. She saw several square container-like things hanging there.

  “That looks a lot like emergency escape equipment. Kinda like a cross between a bus and a parachute. Well, it looks like Fiamma’s plan will work even left alone, and he would probably toss the Russian sorcerers out of the Star of Bethlehem as soon as they presented any obstructions, so I took it upon myself to show them the way before that happened. Heh-heh.”

  “…Question one. What do you mean by pricing plans?”

  “Don’t get me wrong! I’m not going to take any of your money. My reason for living is to do things that will be to the United Kingdom’s benefit. Instead of demanding compensation, I’d like you to promise that you’ll help if Britain is ever in trouble in the future.”

  The black-haired girl spoke with a sly grin.

  It made her seem like a devil when paired with the tail reaching out of her miniskirt, but the minor details weren’t exactly consistent, making her seem a bit cute. A little devil, so to speak. After all, why was she willing to do people favors based on nothing but a verbal promise?

  Nevertheless, Sasha didn’t care about what was happening in Britain, so she didn’t particularly mention it. “Answer one. Swiftly have anyone escape who wishes to leave the battle front. As an addendum, I don’t plan to leave this place yet. I must at least take a parting shot at Fiamma of the Right.”

  “Eh-heh-heh, roger that. I will come to collect this debt, both publicly and privately, so please do not forget.”

  With a ga-gump, several containers suspended directly below the temple shot off into the night sky. The surface was embroiled in its own conflict, but it wasn’t her responsibility to worry about them after that point. They, too, were professional sorcerers, the pride of the Russian Church.

  The black-haired girl, waving her tail a little, continued. “Now, what did you mean by taking a parting shot at Fiamma?”

  “Answer two. I feel no particular need to answer you.”

  “You seem irritated. Want some gum?”

  Sasha’s face, hidden behind her bangs, clouded slightly. “…Answer three. I am unable to understand those who put synthetic substances like that into their mouths.”

  “I thought Crossist followers have loved sweets ever since the days of manna in the New Testament.”

  Sasha ignored the girl following her and ran farther through the Star. She hadn’t fully grasped this temple’s structure, but she had a fairly good guess as to where to find the device she was after.

  Something connecting Fiamma of the Right with the temple…

  If she assumed that the Star of Bethlehem had a similar layout to a “temple” using Crossist-based modern Western sorcery, then no matter how gargantuan it was, the number, color, position, and other properties of the individual parts composing it should be roughly the same.

  Essentially, despite having gathered up the highest-class materials from all over the world and expanding it to maximum scale, Fiamma would still have used the same basic recipe itself. That meant she didn’t need to worry about the visual splendor and enormous size. The sorceress Sasha Kreutzev could fight against it just fine using the knowledge she already had.

  And then it happened.

  Sasha suddenly stopped. But this wasn’t the vital temple point in her knowledge; what she was looking at now was a window. Beyond it spread the dark night sky, and she could see another building far in the distance.

  Its walls and ceiling had mostly collapsed, and even from here, she could see inside it.

  Fiamma of the Right was swinging a sword, long enough that it disappeared beyond the night sky.

  And.

  She witnessed the moment the right arm of the boy confronting him was severed cleanly from his shoulder.

  2

  Vasilisa, female leader of the Russian Catholic special forces team Annihilatus, had arrived in Moscow. Several crimson stains marred her already red habit. A liquid of the same color dripped from the edges of her pursed lips, too.

  However.

  None of it was her blood.

  With gory hands, crimson even under her fingernails, Vasilisa threw open the front doors of a giant palace. Several killers immediately attacked her, but she didn’t pay them any mind: she didn’t care about her enemies’ combat power nor the fact that they were originally her allies.

  She mowed them down…

  “Man-eating woman in a one-legged house—”

  …in a singsong voice, like a young girl.

  In conjunction with Vasilisa’s crooning, an old lady wrapped in torn-up shadows went on a rampage through the palace. A huge clump of flames exploded, professional sorcerers were dragged across the floor, and there was a series of screams and angry cries.

  When her feet came to a stop deep inside the palace, a large man’s voice flew at her from up ahead.

  “So you’ve come.”

  They were bitter, hateful words.

  It was a middle-aged bishop, garbed in gold-decorated clothing. “The witch whom the man-eating monster fell in love with. Is that unaging body what you gained at the pinnacle of your destruction of the occult?”

  “I’d rather you call me a fairy-tale heroine, Bishop Nikolai. I am still a national idol, you know.”

  “Cease your prattling. You are the remains of a girl who burned her mother and sister alive to obtain happiness.”

  Vasilisa ignored his words.

  She cast her glance forward, and in tandem, the monstrous shadow moved. It shot off in a straight line, plunging straight for Nikolai.

  While watching the attacking witch, Nikolai opened his mouth. “The man-eating witch is strong—strong enough to be famous. There are several folktales about her in Russia, but most depict only two options: being eaten alive or being allowed to escape. Almost none of them involves the human killing her.”

  Bwom!! The man-eating witch exploded.

  “However, even the man-eating witch has an exceptional way of being killed.”

  At the same time, something began to swirl around Nikolai. It was clear water. This was nothing as mundane as regular water, though—when it appeared, the carpet adorning the floor burned to a crisp.

  “In one of the stories she appears in, she kept watch over two springs: one filled with the water of life, which could grant eternal life, and one with the water of death, which would end someone’s life without question. There were knights who asked the witch to guide them to the water of life, and in the very end, they push the witch into the water of death and take the water of life for themselves.”

  Engulfed by the clear fluid, the man-eating witch dissipated. Then, Nikolai snapped his fingers. Immediately, a strange water poured toward Vasilisa like a tsunami, threatening to cover her entirely from overhead.

  “This is the incredibly rare victory against her won by the hands of humankind.”

  A horrible scene unfolded.

  The left half of Vasilisa’s body completely disintegrated. Her arm vanished down to the bone. Nothing that could identify her feminine body remained from her chest down to her waist, and the psychedelically colored “contents” seemed almost ready to pour out. And in the meantime, her disintegration continued. Within less than a minute, not even a hair would be left.

  “This great war was a national policy signed
and executed by the Patriarch himself, the central figure of both this nation called Russia and the Russian Church that controls it,” Nikolai said to her, as if spitting the words out. “I don’t know what you were thinking, but you should have used your head a little. Then maybe you’d have realized what trying to stop it would mean.”

  However.

  The bishop frowned.

  This wasn’t right.

  Vasilisa’s face held no trace of anguish or terror even after half her body had melted. She still wore that impenetrable smile.

  And then.

  Vasilisa’s lips, despite her having lost even her lungs, clearly moved.

  “Oh dear. It’s quite commonly accepted that coerced signatures are null and void, you know.”

  Shudder.

  The moment Nikolai took a step back, Vasilisa’s wounds swelled. Bk-bk-bk-bk!! A strange sound rang out, and enough blood and flesh to replace the missing portions of her body began to come together again.

  “War-related documents don’t go through the Russian Church’s command heirarchy, but the military’s. And the Patriarch isn’t accustomed to relaying orders through a network…He wasn’t able to, for example, consider the possibility that after he electronically signed a dummy document with a tablet, that signature data could be placed on something more dangerous.

  “Though I don’t dislike purehearted, innocent children,” added Vasilisa offhandedly.

  Despite having been produced in an abnormal way, her newly formed appendages seemed even more youthful and vibrant than before—and brimmed with life. It was the soft skin of a woman in her early teens, looking like it would repel water without doing anything in particular.

  Just like a fairy-tale heroine.

  “And the only one who could have tricked him was the one appointed as the go-between for the Russian Church and the military—you, Bishop Nikolai Tolstoj. Meaning you were the most suspicious. But what were you after? The Patriarch’s throne? If so, were you considering assassinating him amid the confusion?”

 

‹ Prev