CHAPTER 7

Changing Raindrops to Bloody Red

Revival_of_Destruction.

1

Aiho Yomikawa gripped the steering wheel.

On the outside, it was a cheap-looking domestic sports car, but the engine noise was strangely low. Though not visible, it had been lovingly customized to chase down runners. The vehicle had seven gears, which was a good indication of how insane the modifications were.

She’d been driving around looking for Last Order, who had disappeared this afternoon from her apartment.

…? The roads seem pretty empty…

At its heart, Academy City was a city of students. Only faculty, merchants, and college students could use cars, so the traffic wasn’t that sparse compared to a normal day in the metropolis.

Nevertheless, today, there were no cars out. Past her windshield, and her periodically moving wipers, was a road that looked more like an empty runway.

“What’s up with this…?” she muttered.

Then, on the car radio, which was shoved into where the audio system would be, a light blinked. She put on her turn signal, slowed down, and parked her car on the shoulder.

She looked down at the radio just as it emitted a low grrrr and printed out a postcard-sized paper. It worked the same as the small printers on digital cameras. Anti-Skill HQ used it to send wanted photos and such to all officers on duty.

The picture was rough, as though it had been taken from far away. It was blurry, too, like the camera had been shaking at the time. Still, she could make out a woman in yellow clothing, standing in the midst of numerous downed Anti-Skill officers.

“?”

Yomikawa was perplexed.

Normally, the picture wasn’t the only thing printed out—they usually got some kind of textual information about the scene, but nothing else arrived. This didn’t tell her what the woman had done. She couldn’t even tell whether the woman was suspected in some sort of crime or was someone she was supposed to place under her protection.

Last Order being lost still worried her, but “crimes” took priority over “lost children.”

She pressed the switch on her radio. “Yomikawa to HQ. Requesting details on call 334,” she called in, hoping to get some confirmation, wondering if it was a communication mishap.

But she got no answer—just a low static buzzing in her ears.

She tried speaking into the radio again several times after that, but she never got a reply.

“…”

Yomikawa switched off the radio.

She sat back in her parked car and grabbed the postcard-sized paper again. In it were Anti-Skill officers unconscious on the ground in the rain and, standing right in the middle of them, a woman in yellow.

This woman…, she thought, running a finger across the figure in the photo. What the hell is she? I mean, she doesn’t seem like someone to protect. It looks like she just got done wrecking my colleagues…

An eerie sensation ran up her spine. At the same time, she felt anger for her colleagues, who were facedown on the ground.

Well, I’ll need to have a polite conversation with her if I happen to see her…, she thought idly.

However, she didn’t drive off in her sports car again.

Rumble!!

A sudden shock hit Aiho Yomikawa’s brain.

“Agh…?!”

She couldn’t even scream.

The strength left her body and she slumped over the steering wheel. It jammed into her chest painfully, but she couldn’t do anything about it. Not an ounce of energy remained, from her core to her fingertips.

Her vision quickly began to narrow.

What…is…?

Not understanding, she began to drift into unconsciousness.

The car radio switch was just a few centimeters away from her limply hanging arms. But she couldn’t move her hands. She couldn’t ask for help. Even breathing was a laborious task.

…This…photo…

Maybe it was a sign from her colleagues to be wary of her. Maybe an Anti-Skill officer, in the same situation as her, had rallied the last of his strength to send it out.

But she wouldn’t be putting it to use anytime soon.

…Damn it…

The photo slipped out from between her thumb and index finger and fluttered down.

As it fell, Aiho Yomikawa completely lost consciousness.

A road without cars.

An awfully silent city.

A lack of response from the radio.

…Perhaps the situation had already evolved into something monumental…

2

“Resource Reclamation and Treatment Plant 3?” said one of the men wearing black, looking at a group of buildings towering over a part of School District 5.

The plant was right next to District 7. After using their vehicle to chase Accelerator and others on the run from the Hound Dogs, they’d left their minivan near a park on the other side of the district line.

“We’ll have trouble if that’s where they ran, Nancy,” said the other.

The first grinned in spite of herself. “Who’re you calling Nancy?” she murmured. That was her code name, though. Nothing she could do about that.

Nancy was East Asian and indeed a normal Japanese person. Both her hair and eyes were darkly colored, and she had no complex about that whatsoever. If she had her way, her code name would also be in Japanese. Amata Kihara was someone she was pretty sure liked having a flashy nickname on the Internet.

Her whole body was covered in jet-black protective gear and a mask, but they didn’t manage to conceal her mature feminine curves. The Hound Dogs didn’t care about gender—everyone in the group was human garbage anyway—so there were other women besides Nancy. People of the same gender being around, however, didn’t create any strange feelings of solidarity. Generally, everyone in the organization was a disdainful pile of trash, like former Anti-Skill officers who had awoken to the joy of chasing down perpetrators or analytical engineers who liked bringing “forms of torture that didn’t leave wounds” to investigations.

She slowly waved the tool in her hand. The device, which looked like a toy gun, was a scent detector. Just above the grip, where the hammer would be on a pistol, was a small LCD monitor of about three inches. A multitude of bar graphs moved up and down without rest, looking like the spectrum analyzer bars on a stereo system screen.

“The target’s ‘scent’ leads into there,” said Nancy to her colleague waiting behind her. “Not much doubt about it.”

A scent. Police hounds couldn’t track scents on rainy days like today, but this managed to solve the problem with a pretty high success rate. Particular scents drifted away most of the time because they mixed with other odors, not because the scents themselves disappeared. These detectors could handle these situations well.

They looked ahead to where the “scent” was.

“Huge building,” said one of the people in black, coming up next to her.

It was idle talk, but the man was right. The plant before their eyes was enormous—about two square kilometers. It was used for recycling waste. Academy City didn’t use much in the way of resources, and they recycled many different things, from basic paper to soft metals of iron and aluminum and petroleum products like plastic. All “resources” from the four school districts around District 5 were collected at this plant to be processed into a usable state.

The huge plot of land brought to mind a coastal petrochemical industrial complex. And it certainly was an industrial park, with the rows of cylindrical fuel tanks in one part over a hundred meters in diameter and the countless smokestacks thrusting into the sky.

And it was a recycling plant to boot. The ideal place for human trash to be fighting.

“Nancy, what do you think he’s after?” asked Rod. “This facility doesn’t seem strategically important. But if he was just hiding in there, why bother coming here and having to slip past all the security?”

“Hmph. It might actually be pretty simple,” replied Nancy casually, causing Rod to frown. She shook the scent detector in front of him. “Maybe he wants to get to the trash processors so he can erase his scent and get away from this little guy.”

“…Then the target knows what we’re equipped with?”

“Yeah, since that idiot Orson ran away with him. There was a spare in that van, too.”

Acquiring the smell of garbage wouldn’t quite fool the detectors. But if he used specific cleaning agents that changed the molecular composition of the scent, then it would be a different story. The Hound Dogs’ cover-up team had developed one specifically for their use, but she wouldn’t be surprised if a resource treatment plant had a chemical that did the same thing.

A last resort, thought Nancy with a thin smile. “Rod, do you have a map of this place?”

“Already got it from the data banks.”

“Send it to everyone. How many employees in there? Patrol routes?”

“We don’t have to worry about patrol routes,” the man called Rod said simply. “Most of the inside runs on autopilot. There are about fourteen workers, but they do all their jobs on computers in the control center. They even call in outside groups to do mechanical maintenance.”

“Great. Saves us the trouble of cleaning up afterward,” said Nancy offhandedly, giving the scent detector to her colleague. She began to check the submachine gun hanging from her shoulder.

Rod shook the small terminal with the map on it for them to see. “There’s a few ways to get in. We don’t have the man power to cover all of them and comb the plant at the same time.”

The Hound Dogs were currently split up into a few different places—a diversion against the unknown enemy, a detached force following Last Order, and those on guard duty for Amata Kihara. Because of that, they had only around ten people here.

“We’ll just have to herd the target. He should think we’ve got a lot more people than we actually do. First, attack from point A on the map, and after we completely control his movements, we surprise him at emergency exit C. Throwing a few bombs in there should rock his world, easy. Got it?”

“What if he uses his ability and breaks through? We can’t herd him anywhere then.”

“It’s fine.”

Nancy looked at the plant again. The cluster of buildings made her think of a heavy industrial plant, the kind with several layers of thick concrete and metal pipes coiling around.

“If Kihara’s right, our target isn’t that all-powerful.”

3

“Here it is…”

In Resource Reclamation and Treatment Plant 3’s control room, Accelerator smiled to himself.

Dozens of computer monitors covered the small room’s windowless walls. This was where everything was controlled—from factory work oversight to security mode handling.

The fourteen workers here had no defense against an intruder armed with a shotgun. At the moment, they were scattered about, cowering and trembling, but Accelerator didn’t pay them any attention. He was staring at a single monitor. On it was a list of cleaning agents the plant had in stock.

He was searching for one that would have a chemical reaction with his scent on a molecular level, changing it into a wholly different substance.

I found it. And there are a few kinds. I can avoid their detectors with this.

He’d resolved himself to fighting the Hound Dogs and Amata Kihara until the bitter end, but he didn’t like always being on the receiving end. He had only seven minutes of full ability usage left. He’d of course use it on Amata Kihara, but the underling Hound Dogs would be a waste. Clearly, holding the initiative in this battle was the better course of action.

Of course, safely rescuing Last Order was most important right now, not fighting Kihara and his thugs. But if I’m going to look for her, I need to shake off the Hound Dogs’ pursuit now. If I grab the brat first, she’s more likely to end up hit by a stray bullet!

He’d have a hell of a hard time if he tried to do anything after saving her. In the first place, his ability was for protecting himself and only himself. If he had to use it every time the Hound Dogs showed up, the battery wouldn’t last.

From that perspective, too, he had to use this chance to figure out when to fight and when to avoid it.

Guess I’ll erase my scent with these cleaners and get out of here. Not much time until Kihara gets his shitty hands on the brat. I can’t wander out of my way—I need to get back to the actual point as soon as I can. Now, where in the plant are these washing materials…?

Suddenly, one of the monitors shook with a buzz.

The dozens of monitor screens in the control room were drowned out in white noise and static, one after the other. Just before the last one went down, on the security image of the plant’s north entrance 2, he caught a glimpse of a man dressed all in black.

If they had the skill to perfectly take down the security equipment in Resource Reclamation and Treatment Plant 3, they must have known where all the cameras were. Which meant those black-suits were purposely letting him on to where they were, inviting him.

Pieces of shit! How are you here so early?!

The plant was already surrounded.

Accelerator couldn’t move without a cane or a crutch, which meant he couldn’t move with any significant speed. Even if he used a washing material to escape the scent detectors, he’d probably still have to take on the group in the building.

He couldn’t escape from them. And…

…I don’t plan to. Damn stalkers. I’ll crush them, right here, right now.

He looked around, putting his weight on his shotgun, using it as a cane. Then he gave a warning to the workers present, who had genuinely just been caught up in all this.

“There’s gonna be a gunfight here soon. More of them might come after it’s over, too. Wait twenty minutes after hearing the last gunshot, change out of your work uniforms, and get the hell out.”

He got a response, though he wasn’t sure if they were nodding or just trembling.

Interesting. What pieces do I have…?

Accelerator reviewed the situation.

He probably couldn’t use his ability. The plant’s interior was blocked off with thick concrete, decreasing electronic communication accuracy with the outside. Plus, it was home to a resource-recycling center—all the huge motors for things like conveyor belts and mechanical crushers were spraying harsh electromagnetic waves everywhere. They rendered the Misaka network completely unusable, since the system operated by changing the Sisters’ brain waves into EM waves to create an electronic information network.

Also, the noises they made were grating.

The sounds would make a huge difference between best timing and worst timing. If Accelerator was in the middle of a normal conversation, it might just disconcert him a bit. But if it happened while he was using a flashy ability, it could cause a big misfiring accident.

Besides, using my power here won’t reach Kihara.

He’d never experienced a battle in such a naked state before. Without his ability, he was just a kid who couldn’t do any more physical activity than walking with a crutch. The only weapon he had was the shotgun, which he was using for said purpose. It probably had around thirty bullets loaded in all the magazines.

“What now…?”

He mentally groped for a way to intercept the Hound Dogs, who specialized in organized combat, with only what he had. With the black-suits purposely showing themselves on camera weighing more heavily on his mind…

What now?

…Accelerator took his eyes off the monitor and looked around for a paper map. Finding one, he unfolded it. Would he accept their invitation? Would he refuse it? The battle had already begun.

4

Mikoto Misaka was in a convenience store.

She stood in a corner featuring rain gear, stock-still.

“Hmm…Too small,” she muttered, examining a cheap plastic umbrella. These sorts of umbrellas were popular because they weren’t very bulky, but this one was so small it looked like she’d end up getting wet.

She looked out the store’s big windows. It was totally dark out now. Fairly large raindrops pounded against the glass.

Mikoto Misaka had won a bet during the Daihasei Festival and gained the right to make Touma Kamijou do whatever she wanted as a game, but they were interrupted. She was searching for the boy again now, but…

“Why does it have to rain?”

She looked down at the paper bag from the cell phone company that she was holding with her school bag. I don’t want my Croaker and Hoppit straps getting wet.

As she moaned and groaned over what to do, her cell phone ringtone went off. Exasperated, she pulled out the phone.

It displayed the number of her underclassman Kuroko Shirai.

“Big Sisteeeer!”

“What do you want, Kuroko?”

“I won’t be coming back to the dorm because of Judgment work, so could you put in a word with that finicky R.A.? It’s after curfew, right?”

“Umm, I’m out at the store right now, too.”

“Gyaaah?!” came back Shirai with a very unladylike response.

Then another voice came through the speaker, a little farther away than Shirai.

“Huh? Shirai, did you not get through to her?”

It was probably Kazari Uiharu, one of Shirai’s colleagues in Judgment, which meant she was probably at their HQ right now.

“How aggravating. Big Sister is out right now, so she can’t contact the R.A. I’m not sure what to do. You need to file paperwork to extend your curfew, and the R.A. won’t answer her phone. We’re bound to have points docked for sure.”

“Oh, I see. I wonder why Miss Misaka’s breaking the curfew?”

“?!”

Mikoto heard a gasp, followed by a sharp cracking noise. Shirai was probably squeezing the phone with violent force. She asked, “C-could it be…Are you on a night date with that rotten ape of a man?! That jerk, that asshole—what a refined choice of atmosphere, picking a rainy day to have a little fun!!”

“That’s not it, you stupid idiot!!” Mikoto shouted on reflex.

Shirai didn’t seem to hear. “Guh, I can’t leave things like this. Protecting Big Sister’s chastity—sounds like a job for Kuroko Shirai!!”

“D-don’t say ‘chastity’ so loudly!”

“Then if I had to put it in more concrete terms—”

“Just don’t!!” shouted Mikoto, her face bright red. But Shirai didn’t seem to be listening to anything else right now. Words continued to fly out of the phone receiver.

“In any case, I’ll come to you, I will come for you for sure, Big Sister where are you right now and I’m using a GPS service so please send me an authentication code over a text mess—”

“You can’t do that,” came Uiharu’s voice, jamming up the Shirai verbal machine gun. “I mean, we’re nowhere near finished with this packet of office work or the huge pile of finance documents or that mountain range of instructional files. We’re really going to be up all night, you know. I made sure to buy a meal from the store for dinner, so please don’t take a single step outside and no taking baths, either.”

“Ugaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!”

“Eek, gyah?! Shirai, Miss Shirai!!”

The sounds of struggling could be heard from the phone.

Slowly distancing the cell phone from her ear, Mikoto said in annoyance, “Umm, I’m hanging up, then, okay?”

Instead of the deranged Shirai, Uiharu was the one to answer. “Oh, okay. I’ll make sure Shirai stays here, so, umm, I’m rooting for you!!”

“I said I’m not on a date!!” she shouted with all her might, but it didn’t seem to go through. As soon as she heard the sounds of violence resume, the call ended with a beep.

5

Touma Kamijou and Last Order hid behind the support beam.

The darkened family restaurant was filled with a terrible silence.

Followed by thirty seconds of despair.

He thought his brain would collapse from all the stress. But as he waited behind the pillar, not breathing, he noticed something was off.

No matter how much time passed, the men didn’t come nearer.

The people dressed in black who had entered the restaurant must have had a good idea of where they were hiding. They probably also knew the pair had no real weapons. A group fully decked out with firearms and combat armor had no reason to be cautious and wait out an unarmed high school student and a girl.

What’s going on?

Part of him said moving would be dangerous…

…but the other part disagreed, saying he’d lose his only chance if he didn’t get going now.

“…” Last Order, practically glued to him, grabbed onto his shirt forlornly.

Those small hands helped Kamijou just barely keep his presence of mind.

Another thirty seconds passed after that.

No conspicuous noises.

The rain blowing in from the broken windows alone rang loudly in Kamijou’s ears.

He held his breath.

He shut his eyes.

He waited.

And then, there was movement.

“Hello, hello. Did I frighten you? You don’t have to be scared, so come on out, okay?”

But what he heard was a woman’s shrill voice.

Kamijou couldn’t see her face because the support beam that he hid behind blocked her from his vision.

It was difficult to tell where she was, too.

But…

What? She’s clearly acting differently than the guys just before.

The black-suits creeping up on Kamijou and Last Order had been trying to kill them, quickly and without making any noise or saying anything. Essentially, they were taking the easiest possible actions, doing their best to waste as little effort as possible.

But this woman’s voice was exactly the opposite.

The simple fact that she’d spoken, giving away her own presence, didn’t line up with how the black-suits were acting. She felt like a commando on the other side of the spectrum compared to those shadowlike figures, whom he couldn’t tell if they were even people, much less distinguish between male and female ones.

Which means she’s…not with the black-suits?

Still, he felt it was dangerous to come out into the open. After all, he didn’t know who this person was.

“Ha-ha. You are scared,” the woman’s voice continued with a laugh. “I guess there’s no helping it—that was quite the pinch you were in. But, you know, I’ve got, you know, my own stuff going on, so if you won’t listen to what I have to say…”

Then, acting as though their unrest and caution didn’t matter, she spoke again, voice indifferent.

“…I’ll have to beat you into a shapeless hunk of flesh.”

“!!” Kamijou picked up Last Order and immediately crouched and dove out from behind the pillar.

Then, there was a thunderous slam!!

An invisible attack sliced horizontally through that very same pillar, striking at about its middle. It snapped at that point, then flew into the wall. The velocity gave it the force of a cannonball, and the wall exploded into chunks.

The entire building shook.

As though the structure’s very framework had collapsed, there was a sharp crash, and any glass inside the restaurant that had avoided abuse from the black-suits now shattered.

Kamijou, still covering Last Order, quickly scanned the room.

In the middle of the darkened main floor stood a single woman. The streetlights from outside dimly illuminated her silhouette.

She was strange.

Her clothing looked kind of like a dress worn by women in Europe in the Middle Ages. All of her hair was bunched up and covered with a cloth; not even a single strand was visible. On her face, she had piercings in her mouth, nose, and even eyelids—enough of them to throw off the balance of her face. She wore heavy makeup to emphasize her eyes, making her even more intimidating than she already was.

And her hands…

They gripped a giant hammer over a meter long. Sharp barbed wire coiled around it, beginning midway up the grip and climbing to the tip. A safeguard against the handle being grabbed, maybe, or some kind of ritual decoration.

…

It certainly looked painful to get hit with, but with the armed group sporting submachine guns and combat armor, it didn’t seem like enough to beat them all. Despite that, somehow, some way, the men in black were lying around the woman’s feet.

Not a single one appeared conscious.

This is…

How had she neutralized the black-suits, with their submachine guns, armor, and all that combat discipline, without making a sound?

It’s just like…

The lack of information made everything all the uncannier.

Like those Anti-Skill officers all over the place when I got out of the underground mall…

He knew only one thing—she was no ally to Kamijou, either.

…And the black-suits collapsed near the crushed car…!!

“You’re…?” asked Kamijou in a low voice, getting off Last Order and standing.

The woman shook the strange hammer at him a little and said quietly, “A member of God’s Right Seat—Vento of the Front.”

The woman who called herself Vento stuck out her tongue playfully.

“Target found. Anyway, that’s that—so let me fucking kill you, Touma Kamijou.”

A slender chain attached to her tongue jingled down.

And on its tip, covered in saliva, was a small cross.

6

The Hound Dogs silently infiltrated Resource Reclamation and Treatment Plant 3, where Accelerator was hiding.

When they entered the plant’s concrete interior, the machines were louder than they’d imagined.

Maybe we should’ve cut power to them, too, Nancy thought for a moment. No, the extra work would have been a waste of time. Accelerator probably couldn’t use his ability well right now, but it was best to avoid any situation that could give him any kind of mental leeway.

Nancy had about five colleagues near her.

They were on herding duty, so they had to put on a show, make their target think they had as many people as they could. Nancy’s group would pump bullets inside, and when Accelerator ran farther down the passages, the other team would be lying in wait. That was the plan.

They could use the scent detector, which she’d given to a teammate earlier, to roughly track which paths their target chose. And if they searched inside the rooms, too, they’d never miss him.

The only worry now is the firearms.

According to the detector, the target’s scent had used the minivan parked on the road and come to this plant. Nobody was in the vehicle now, but there had been a bag full of spare equipment in it. If he’d unzipped that, he could be carrying a weapon now.

No, Accelerator isn’t skilled at shooting guns. He’s been completely reliant on his ability his whole life. There’s no way he’s been trained. We should have the upper hand here no matter what, thought Nancy. Still…

Maybe it was because most of the mechanical work was automated, but the concrete building wasn’t air-conditioned. It was hot and oppressive inside. Cold rain was falling just outside, but the interior air was filled with heat from the giant motors operating nonstop.

As the plant grated on their nerves little by little, they crept through a steel hallway. Even the white fluorescent light felt like it was adding to the heat.

She was tense.

Nancy decided that was why it felt like this. She glanced at her colleagues’ black-mask-covered faces, seeing only a little bit of stiffness, awkwardness in their movements.

The plant blocked electrical waves in a number of ways.

Accelerator was apparently getting assistance from communications equipment to use his ability. An ability he almost certainly wouldn’t use, in Amata Kihara’s opinion, because there was too big a chance of it misfiring.

All the Hound Dog members here, Nancy first and foremost, thought it was a valid assessment. He had too many restrictions to be careless with his ability. The stronger the power, the higher the risks of it having unintended and dangerous effects.

On the other hand, there was still cause for worry: If they cornered him, he might use his ability even if it was risky.

Only Amata Kihara could take down Accelerator when he was serious. The bullets and bombs Nancy used literally wouldn’t put a dent in him.

The absolute, ironclad rule is to kill him before he feels like he’s been cornered.

That was the reason for the whole herding strategy.

The target was cautious, but he’d relax his attention after progressing deeper into the plant. They’d aim for that moment and the other team would shoot him dead. To succeed, they needed to come out in the open and attract Accelerator’s attention, risky though it was. He couldn’t use his superpowerful ability, but it was highly likely he had a gun. Someone could end up with a bullet in their head if they were stupid and got too caught up in their little diversion.

Well, of course we’re tense. The only thing anyone here is good at, including me, is killing instantly. None of our training was with this kind of situation in mind.

There were different kinds of soldiers.

Soldiers active in jungles didn’t need to know about how hostage negotiations worked, and urban snipers didn’t need to learn how to live on uninhabited islands. Groups could create more forces with better strengths if they specialized training regimens with specific fields in mind. It eliminated waste and was a more efficient usage of time.

In essence, they were desert combat specialists on a forced march through snowy Arctic mountains.

Can we do this…?

Behind her black mask, Nancy gulped.

…We have to, or we’ll die.

Ka-click.

A soft, metallic sound cut off Nancy’s thoughts.

“?!”

The group immediately pointed their guns in that direction.

But nobody was there. Nor was there any space to hide. Maintaining her stance, Nancy made eye contact and communicated with the colleague right next to her using her hands.

“(…That didn’t come from any machine.)”

“(…I agree. But if someone’s here, where would they hide? It doesn’t seem like an advantageous position, either.)”

“(…Any chance he threw something that made the noise?)”

“(…If he did, that would mean the target’s right nearby.)”

The entire group tensed.

“(…Rod, the scent detector.)”

“(…One minute. Analysis is about to finish.)”

Her pulse quickened. The index finger on the trigger trembled. A thin layer of sweat formed between her skin and her gloves.

A moment later…

Ka-click.

This time, all the lights turned off at once.

It was like the darkness had been timed.

A tactic to spur nervousness using light and sound, psychologically tormenting them.

This is bad, Nancy realized belatedly.

If they pulled the trigger on a prank, someone would get hurt—they were clustered tightly together. They could aim up, but everything around them—walls and ceiling both—was big hunks of metal. Ricocheting volleys would mean trouble for them.

She hadn’t given thought to the safety on her gun.

She couldn’t stop worrying about if her shaking finger accidentally moved and pulled the trigger. Accelerator seemed to realize they didn’t have night-vision gear.

“(…Wait!!)”

Nancy immediately tried to look each of them in the eye—then realized that wouldn’t work in the dark.

It would be best to use her voice, but that would alert the “enemy” to their location.

Thump-thump-thump-thump!! Her heartbeat rang ominously in her ears.

The finger on the trigger trembled.

Trigger…gunshot…misfire…Images ran through her head.

And then there was an earsplitting bang!!

She thought her heart would stop.

Kuh…ah…!! That’s…that’s steam exhaust! Just a normal sound!!

She somehow kept her finger from moving, then began to mentally focus her senses to find the target causing all this, when…

“Gah?!”

A low voice suddenly rang out right beside her.

Ga-thunk, came the vibration of a person falling, transmitted through her feet on the floor.

She caught the scent of metal.

Oh…shi—

If she’d been thinking clearly, she’d have known it was just a spanner thrown through the darkness. If she’d seen the trick, she might have regained her calm just from that.

But…

The enemy’s goal was to steal away their “calm,” one bit at a time.

That bastard…He’s not just using his ability but human fear to his advantage…?!

By the time Nancy noticed it, it was too late.

Just as she began to rally her nerves, there in the darkness…

…clunk. Another implement hit her in the shoulder, without much in the way of force.

Her body moved before she could think; she’d panicked more than she thought.

The shaking in her trigger finger crossed the threshold…

…and several gunshots pierced the air, along with the smell of even more metal.

7

The pitch-black restaurant was filled with a bizarre tension.

Touma Kamijou stood face-to-face with the woman who called herself Vento.

Damn it. If it’s not one thing, it’s another…

If she was from a magic faction, then unlike before, it would be Imagine Breaker’s turn onstage. But that didn’t mean he could feel relief. If Vento’s abilities were the real thing, then she had enough skill to instantly wipe out four people armed with submachine guns without even letting them make a peep. Before any of the Imagine Breaker stuff, there could even be the danger of getting killed instantly.

And…

He hadn’t closely inspected the black-suits on the floor, but they weren’t wounded or bleeding at all, making them incredibly similar to the “unconscious people” he’d seen so many of up to now. If the two were the same, the one who was paralyzing the functions of all of Academy City was, indeed, this woman right in front of him, Vento.

A woman, come to smash the top of the science side by herself…

By that logic, her danger level wasn’t even comparable to the black-suits.

“You know, you don’t need to be so tense,” insisted Vento, chain jingling as it swayed. “You won’t even have time to feel any pain.”

Vento casually swung the barbed-wire hammer in her right hand.

A single horizontal blow.

Kamijou thought it had over five meters to go before reaching him…

“!!”

…but then he felt a chill, so he thrust Last Order out from under him and bent down right as something whipped over him. It turned out to be a mass of wind that had swallowed small pieces of something. It chewed through the air, tore through the wall, and swallowed up small pieces of wreckage, turning from transparent to a dull color as it shot from right to left over a wide area.

Ga-bam!! The entire building tilted.

A spell where she swings her hammer around and it launches projectiles…?

Kamijou’s ears, pale with fear, heard a sprinkle of falling fragments.

The action didn’t spare any thought for the normal guests unconscious around them.

“Stay hidden, Last Order!!” he shouted as she tried to move away from him when he pushed her away. He watched as she relocated behind a rectangular pillar.

What the hell? First the black-suits and now this woman…!! Kamijou ground his teeth in anger, but that wouldn’t be enough to stop Vento.

Vento continued, backing up as she swung the hammer a few more times, sometimes vertically and sometimes horizontally. The chain connected to her tongue jingled as it swung back and forth. Each of the hammer’s trajectories seemed dangerous to her, like it would scrape the tongue chain. In reality, orange sparks had flown a few times already. Just a few millimeters off and it would have ripped through her tongue, chain, and piercing, but Vento actually seemed relaxed.

Her hammer split through the air.

Boom!! An explosion hit his ears.

A storm of destruction broke out.

The hammer was like a bat, with which she hit heavy iron balls. It launched away tables, overturned the floor, sent the fallen black-suits’ limbs flying, and dropped on the limp patrons. Kamijou’s mind flew into a rage, but it was all he could do just to deal with the wind weapon flying at him.

Bam!! As soon as it touched his right hand, the air burst and vanished.

Imagine Breaker.

Without this ability, which canceled out all strange powers, his body would have been smashed to bits already.

The masses of air weren’t only flying in straight lines. Some curved to the right or left to block his passage, while others came down straight on his head from above when he stopped moving.

“Ha-ha, so that’s the famed right hand. You’re doing a good job of keeping up!!”

As Vento laughed, she hurled the hammer down vertically. Winds of destruction appeared in its wake.

Vertical!! Kamijou hastily brought his hand over his head.

The wind then came piercing through horizontally, from right to left.

“…!!”

A cold sweat broke out on his skin. He immediately bent over backward, his upper body alone hanging down. It roared just past his face, taking off a bit of skin from the tip of his nose.

The wall to his side went ker-crush!! and completely broke apart.

The ceiling was already on an angle, and now an even more hazardous tremor occurred.

What? Her hammer and her attack don’t match up…?!

Questions came to mind, but Vento wasn’t going to answer them.

“Kya-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!! This is so much fun!!”

The long chain on her tongue moved left and right with her mouth movements.

Hooked on the very end, the cross gleamed with an unnatural light.

It flickered on and off a few times.

Then Vento, making a face like she’d missed something, frowned. “I see, I see.” She nodded, seeming very interested as the crashing bangs and booms marked one violent wind attack after the other. She was being dealt with perfectly. She couldn’t close the five-meter gap.

“Killer of illusions, right? Looks like your right hand is outstanding, just like the reports said. The real attacks I’m weaving in all over the room aren’t working at all.”

Real attacks? wondered Kamijou as he swung his right hand around again.

Hearing that Imagine Breaker was in a report made him think as well. Maybe the Roman Orthodox Church’s priority on him had changed.

“Hmm, but I still don’t really get it…Let’s test this out.”

“?”

“Something like this!!” shouted Vento from her core as she swung the hammer she held from in front of her to her side.

With a loud pop!! another air club appeared.

It veered heavily away from Kamijou and toward the civilian patrons collapsed over their tables.

“Bastard!!”

He immediately stuck out his right hand and jumped. The tip of his fingers touched the air club just before it collided with an unconscious patron’s head, making it explode everywhere. The single attack had had a horrible amount of force behind it.

Anger blossomed within Kamijou’s mind and spread to the rest of his body.

Vento watched and narrowed her eyes, seeming interested. “…I see, so that’s how it is. That actually doesn’t look like the easiest thing to use, huh?”

Scouting out how much I can do? thought Kamijou. Maybe Vento was studying Imagine Breaker’s actual effective range.

“I apologize!” He’d blocked all her attacks thus far, but Vento’s face showed no panic as she continued talking. “It looks like I can’t do it so fast you won’t feel the pain. I’ll have to kill you with this guy directly. You’ll be awake for it, so it’ll hurt a ton, but it’ll be the shock that kills you. If you still want to be happy, then why not embrace your masochistic side?”

He heard the jangle of clinking metal.

The chain attached to Vento’s tongue swayed along with her movements, arcing right and left. She swung her hammer around vertically, grazing it against the chain.

Bggztt! Orange sparks flew.

?! What’s she been…?

They were swept away as the air club came in for an attack on a curving trajectory from right to left…

Her hammer and her attack movements aren’t matching up—

…as though tracing out the same movement as the chain attached to her tongue.

This pattern again?!

As though being guided by it.

“Could it be…? The cross on that chain!!” he shouted, crushing the wind weapon with his right hand.

Vento laughed in response. “Oh no! I’ve been found out!”

The long chain on the cross accessory continued arcing right and left without stopping. Each time she swung her hammer so that it skimmed it, an attack made of wind flew off in a route aligned to the shape of the chain.

Damn it! Knowing doesn’t make it any easier to defend!!

He was unintentionally reacting to the large shock-wave-creating hammer’s trajectory. But the hammer and the chain were actually moving independently. She could swing it down from above, but the chain would arc in a curve—and if he saw it coming straight across, the chain would be hanging vertically.

The “attacking motion” and “direction of the actual attack” didn’t align with each other. If she fooled his eyesight even a little, he’d be slow to adjust and she’d cut his body open.

“Shit!!”

“My goodness! It’s kind of getting to be a bother. Ugh.”

Roar!! A significantly stronger aerial club came at him.

Moreover, it didn’t aim directly at him, instead landing on the floor a bit in front of him. The flooring material flashed up, transforming into a flurry of wood splinters, sharp fragments that flew at Kamijou.

“Ghh—ahhhhhhh?!”

They didn’t stab one part of him—they hit all over.

Kamijou flew backward before rolling onto the floor.

He shook his head to clear the pain-induced haze in his mind and desperately tried to kick his senses back into action.

Before he knew it, he’d been pushed almost back to where Last Order was.

With a gasp, Kamijou looked up from the floor.

Last Order was supposed to be hiding behind the pillar, but she’d stood up, and now she was about to run over to him.

“Run!!” he screamed.

“Mm-hmm!” Vento laughed with amusement.

Her attacks could easily demolish the entire pillar along with Last Order.

Last Order didn’t move. Either she couldn’t move or wouldn’t move under her own volition—he couldn’t tell.

At this rate, her small body would be flattened into a hunk of flesh.

“Damn!!”

Kamijou got off the floor and ran, pushing the still Last Order to the floor. She hit the floor at the same time Vento attacked. The new air weapon mercilessly crashed through the pillar and was erased there by Kamijou’s right hand. Nevertheless, a storm of fragments exploded.

It was too dangerous.

He had to get Last Order out of here as soon as he could.

“Go!! Now!!” he shouted. But Last Order, overcome with surprise, shook her head.

She probably didn’t want to leave him to die.

“Now!! Call for help, please!!”

So Kamijou gave her a false goal—one that she’d never accomplish in time.

After that, she finally got to her feet, wobbling. The contents of her pockets seemed to have fled when she fell, though. Upon seeing her toylike, pastel-colored, glossy children’s cell phone on the floor, she went to reach for it.

“Don’t!!” he screamed. Her shoulders gave a jerk, and her little feet began to run. She went through the broken window and out into the road. He could tell as she ran away how panicked and utterly stupefied she was.

Vento aimed her giant hammer wrapped in barbed wire at the petite girl.

But Kamijou came around and stood directly in between her and Last Order. As he did, the building gave a low rumble. A bunch of support beams had been destroyed, and now the ceiling was on the verge of collapsing entirely to one side. The window from which Last Order had escaped was crushed by the falling roof and blocked off.

Vento had let a target go, but her face betrayed no irritation.

In fact, she seemed delighted as she smiled and spoke to him. “Wow, you’re a cruel one! Pretty heavy burden you just put on her, having to run away in the darkness with no destination. She might be on the verge of breaking down out of fear.”

She flourished the giant hammer. “You both would have been happier if you’d died together instead of your putting her through that, wouldn’t you?”

Kamijou, in spite of himself, spat on the floor.

This bastard was the worst.

“…A burden? I won’t put that on her.”

He clenched his right fist again…

…and aimed it at the gleefully smiling Vento.

“If I go get her, there’s no problem. I just won’t die.”

“Oh, this is fun. But answer this! Could you say the same thing after I’ve stuffed your organs into a blender and made a flesh milkshake out of them, hmm?”

She swung her hammer, creating a sharp noise. Her tongue chain jingled and swayed.

“Anyway, you were my target here, and I do so hate it when pagan apes give me trouble. If you aren’t going to be a good boy and run away, it’d really help me out if you made yourself easy to hit!!”

Several more wind attacks swept through the family restaurant as her carelessness continued to destroy it.

8

Accelerator held his breath and waited in the lightless plant.

As long as the opening move of his strategy worked, everything rested in his hands.

He had stolen several pieces of equipment from the minivan. One of them was the shotgun he was using as a cane. Another was a small radio—he could use that for his strategy, too.

His clustered enemies were afraid of friendly fire in the dark. They’d scattered, and now they were using their radios to communicate. Accelerator was talking, too, pretending to be an “ally,” his voice disguised by static. He was giving them false information, throwing off their coordination. They’d caught on to his disruption early on, but they had no way to figure out which of the voices belonged to allies and which were Accelerator’s. Every time they heard another voice, they doubted it a little more.

And if they couldn’t use their radios, they wouldn’t know where their allies were.

Even if they spotted someone, they were afraid of shooting one of their own (or being shot by one of their own). The shooters would hesitate to aim at their targets. It would interrupt their coordination. Accelerator, on the other hand, could just assume anyone he saw was his enemy. This was a huge advantage for him.

Firearms and group tactics: Those two things were how the Hound Dogs posed a threat. It was safe to say they’d lost both of those already, thanks to his trick.

Using this kind of terror tactic—the kind that didn’t involve his ability—was a first for Accelerator, but they fell for it amusingly easily. Fear really was a trait shared by all mankind. In the backstreets and alleys, he had reigned as a symbol of fear without doing anything. He was just putting more focus on that aspect—and it was getting him big results.

They were no longer opponents.

Just fish in a barrel.

All right.

The radios and fear had torn them apart, and now each moved on their own. If he cut loose now, reinforcements would take full minutes to arrive. He didn’t have to care about his surroundings.

Waiting quietly in the darkness, Accelerator let his lips pull up into a grin.

Ahead was his prey, singled out from the others, nervously searching for him.

I’ll eat my fill now that you’re all fattened up, you damn pigs.

About fifteen meters to the target.

The closer you were with a shotgun, the more punch it packed. In that sense, the distance wasn’t quite ideal. Nevertheless, Accelerator leaned back against the wall, lifted his cane from the floor, aimed haphazardly, and fired.

Bang!!

With the earsplitting noise came an impact trying to crush his shoulders. As expected, the buckshot scattered before striking the target. But all around them was hard concrete and metallic plating. Several bullets bounced off them like pinballs and crashed into the black-suit from various angles.

A scream.

In the darkness, a human silhouette spun around with fluid spraying out like in an action movie. After seeing that, Accelerator approached the black-suit, again using the shotgun as a cane.

It looked like he’d hit the arm.

Accelerator put a hand on a nearby wall and pressed the shotgun muzzle to the black-suit’s chin from the side.

“This…this is a joke, right?”

The voice was surprisingly high-pitched. Upon closer inspection, he could tell even through the full-black clothing that the person had feminine curves.

“A joke? Let me see…,” he said in an offhanded way, knowing it didn’t matter.

“Yep, just thought of it.”

He pulled the trigger.

There was a sharp blasting noise as the shotgun fired and sent Accelerator, unable to withstand the recoil, falling backward. Guess I can’t shoot this thing with one hand, he thought. He shook his head and stood back up as the woman in black writhed on the floor.

“Oh, orgh, bwahhhhhhh?!”

She clamped her crushed hands over her mouth, but they went strangely far into her face. The bottom section of her jaw had been blown off by the sidelong shotgun blast. If she moved her hands, she would have realized she had only her top row of teeth left.

Accelerator noticed something warm stuck to his cheek. He twisted his mouth and moved his tongue over it, licking it. It tasted like meat.

“Ah-ha!”

A laugh escaped his lips.

He didn’t need to devote so much time to an incapacitated woman. He needed to leave immediately. If the other Hound Dogs had heard the gunshots, they’d be on their way. A face-to-face gunfight wouldn’t be in his best interest. The best option was to stay hidden in the dark and take down his prey one at a time. I should leave, he thought. As soon as possible.

But.

Unsteadily, with his shotgun as his cane, he stood straight up.

This was getting kind of fun.

He knew he shouldn’t be doing this, but he couldn’t hold back this sense of bursting liberation.

As his teeth crunched and munched, he moved to stand before the woman whose jaw he’d blown off.

“…Oh, wow. Need a teething ring or what?”

The woman gave a jolt and looked at him, the lower portion of her face gone.

Accelerator couldn’t even imagine what sort of face he was making right now.

“How dare you stay alive with that face! Quit fucking around!!”

Anyway, he decided to kick the crawling woman in the gut.

Thump! Thump! Splat!! A series of sharp noises followed. He kicked her five times, ten times, fifteen, twenty, and as he was doing it, her body suddenly disappeared into the dark.

Upon closer examination, he saw a metalworking press machine.

This area was like a cliff, with the machine itself three meters deep and ten square meters around. It looked like metallic items came through on a conveyor belt, fell in, and got compressed. Considering there was already a mountain of empty cans, steel rods, and the like inside, his size estimation might have been too shallow.

Three meters below, the woman squirmed. An unsightly person, both arms wounded and the bottom half of her face blown off.

Even that didn’t arouse pity in Accelerator.

He glanced over at the corner of the window where objects entered the machine. The control room manipulated most of the equipment, but a few appeared to be manual. To prove it, there was a big button alongside the machine wall.

The woman must have guessed what Accelerator had just seen.

Looking up at the entrance, she began to plead. “Ahh, eeh-ahh, ahh-ehh-ehh—”

“Sorry,” interrupted Accelerator.

“Do you have any clue who you pissed off?”

Bang!!

With his palm, he slapped the big switch.

Without an ounce of mercy in his actions.

As the machine began its work, its motor gave off a very dull rumble that echoed through the facility.

“Welp…”

Accelerator wasn’t looking there any longer; he gave a long, exhilarated sigh before beginning his prowl anew.

“Wonder where my next prey’s wandering around…”

The only thing on his lips was a wide grin stretching across his face.

9

Vento’s attacks continued to disassemble the family restaurant, piece by piece.

It didn’t take long for her to drive Kamijou into a corner.

He was covered in blood now, leaning against a broken wall. Imagine Breaker could protect him from all the direct attacks, but it couldn’t repel fragments of broken flooring or tables.

Eventually, the cramped space would limit his options.

If he was chased to one point, all he could do was keep blocking with his right hand. Vento wasn’t attacking very many times, but each attack’s trajectory was complex. He had to foresee each one before acting, so his moves always seemed to lag behind.

In terms of pure destructive power, it was not as strong as Mikoto Misaka, the Railgun. Kamijou had been able to deal with the girl because of geographical issues. Whenever he fought with her, he never, ever preferred a confined space. If he didn’t have somewhere to move about freely and flee without restriction, he didn’t even try to face her.

If he did, he’d be cornered in a heartbeat.

Unfortunately, in this near-destroyed restaurant…

…there are other people lying around unconscious…

Guests and waiters were on the floor and slumped over tables, out cold from the unknown attack. Vento could directly hit them, and if she did too much damage to the building, the whole ceiling could fall and crush everyone.

Kamijou was paying too much attention to his surroundings.

And to Vento’s eyes, too, it was all too clear.

“You’re such a good person.” She chuckled, leveling her giant hammer. “Shouldn’t you be worrying about yourself? Look. ”

Fyoo!! She swung her weapon frivolously.

The chain attached to her tongue indicated a path that would veer past Kamijou’s face. The wind club bent slightly horizontally from him—purposely controlled to be just out of reach of Kamijou’s hand.

“!!” He jumped with all his might and hit it just before it collided with a patron.

Next, Vento released a wind club in the other direction.

She was toying with him like receiving practice for volleyball. She launched attacks at one nearby patron after the next, sometimes throwing in a feint and firing one straight at Kamijou. It demanded ludicrous movements from him, and he began to breathe heavily. What stamina he still had was being sapped away very quickly.

“You!!”

“Mm-hm-hmm?” She chuckled. “Why bother getting so passionate now? You know the state Academy City is in, don’t you? If I were the type to care about others, I wouldn’t have done that in the first place.”

“Shit!!”

Was it true? Had she really caused this entire absurd situation just so she could kill him?

He couldn’t believe that was true. This was way too involved to just be for killing a mere high school student.

“You don’t realize your own worth, do you?” said Vento lightly, her giant hammer mowing through the air again. “My objective is Touma Kamijou. Anything else is a bonus. Even that archive of forbidden books doesn’t mean much compared to you.”

She spoke as if her point was so simple.

“You are, without a doubt, an enemy of the Roman Orthodox Church right now. And we will use any means necessary to kill our enemies. Allow me to make a very bold statement. We will kill you even if we have to annihilate the very nation of Japan.” She paused. “Still, with that right hand, I don’t think I can rely on my usual method. Anyway, it looks like I’ll need to kill you directly.”

As she spoke, she produced papers as though by magic and waved them at him. They seemed to be some kind of orders, but he couldn’t read them in the dark. He doubted they were written in Japanese anyway.

“As you can see, the pope signed this himself. There are two billion people hunting you now.”

The hell? Kamijou was astonished.

He was surprised both at hearing the words Roman Orthodox Church coming out now and by the ridiculous intent to wipe an entire nation from history to take out a single person.

In the past, Touma Kamijou had been wrapped up in all sorts of incidents. None had centered around him personally since maybe the Aztec sorcerer from August 31.

Seeing the terrified boy, Vento made the papers disappear, again like a magic trick. “Does that sound like a joke? Why don’t I wake you up to the fact that it’s not?”

Whoosh. She hoisted her hammer again and smiled.

The chain attached to her tongue’s tip moved, the cross swaying slightly from side to side.

“What…?”

“I’m about to kill everyone in this restaurant.”

Kamijou caught his breath.

Vento smiled at him sweetly and continued. “That seems like it’ll make you suffer more. Dumb reason for committing mass murder, isn’t it? But I’ll do it. Maybe then, even you’ll wise up to the present circumstances.”

“No!!”

Ignoring the situation, he felt his feet begin to run toward Vento. She smiled and moved away, waving her head. With a jingle of metal on metal, the chain attached to her tongue coiled around Vento in a helix.

If she swung the hammer now, she’d cause a vortex of destruction with her at the center.

“I’ll blow you away, you hear me?!” she howled, moving her right hand.

Boom!! The earth rattled.

A metallic smell filled the darkened, ruin-like restaurant.

10

The sound of short breathing rang in the hot, oppressive, dark plant.

Vela, the Hound Dog hiding in the shadows, was a woman nobody could seem to imagine falling to a place like this. She never failed to be cheerful, friendly, and still keep proper distance from others. Mental and physical labor, she handled flawlessly. That’s how she was.

She had her own circumstances, too, but if anyone seemed interested in that, she had enough conversational ability to skillfully deflect the topic.

Be that as it may, Vela, who had decently good sense, sought harmony with others even among the gathering of trash known as the Hound Dogs. Her efforts stood out against the constant mocking and scorning everyone else preferred. Still, she wanted to build trust with her “comrades,” even if it wasn’t much.

Unfortunately…

…The radios are making things worse.

She was incessantly hearing screams and voices begging for support, but Vela reacted to them in a troubled manner. She couldn’t tell which were real and which were traps. Keynes had gone off on his own, saying he’d save them—and she hadn’t heard from him since. Which meant it would be dangerous to try to reply to this.

She couldn’t trust anyone anymore.

Everything she’d spent so much time thinking she was building—it was all coming tumbling down.

“Ugh…”

A groan escaped her lips.

She had to leave the facility for now and go back to square one. Rod had said there might be a trap at the exit, too, but that warning was suspicious. Was that really Rod? She needed to get out even if it meant accepting risk. Even if she had to leave her “comrades” here. They couldn’t be wiped out.

This is the worst…Worst day of my life…

Vela started searching for the exit, her steps wobbling and uncertain. She had no will to fight anymore. The tension was too much for her; it continued to gnaw away at her focus and thinking.

Then she noticed something.

The radio…

It had been so noisy before, but at some point, it had changed to a constant buzz of static and nothing else. She’d been keeping silent lest she caused even more chaos, but this was disheartening. Vela pushed the switch and brought her lips to it.

“This is Vela. This is Vela. Requesting sitrep. Over.”

No one answered her request.

Beads of sweat broke out on her skin. Were they rejecting her transmission as false, too? Then the worst case possible crossed her mind—that everyone had already fallen prey to Accelerator.

Or is it…?

As she searched for an escape route from that idea, she hit upon another possibility.

Maybe everyone alive retreated outside like I’m trying to do. This plant’s walls are thick, and they block most radio waves. If everyone went outside, they’d have a hard time reaching me.

That would mean her “comrades” had abandoned Vela, but that was still better than the alternative—their all dying in this stinking trash processing plant.

That’s right. The Hound Dogs would never die this easily. Accelerator’s tactics work only in complete darkness. Under the moonlight, we don’t need radios to tell who’s an ally or not. Getting outside and dealing with him there will be more effective.

Now that she understood, she had to get outside where it was safe, too. Her conclusion led her to move with stronger, firmer steps as she searched for an exit.

There was still hope for her. With everyone together, even Accelerator wasn’t scary. And that was exactly why…

…the moment she saw her colleague crushed by a pressing machine…

…her thoughts did a complete 180 and plunged her into immediate terror.

Strictly speaking, she couldn’t actually see the “crushed colleague” herself. She saw only a piece of equipment meant for compressing steel products into heaps. There was an area dug down about three meters from the floor. It looked like it was ten meters across.

Inside the press, a thick iron plate was descending.

Despite that, she could hear moaning from the other side.

…Nancy!!

She cared about her friends, so she could identify the one moaning just from that slight voice. Meanwhile, with creaks and groans, the thick iron plate continued its slow trek downward.

“Uh, uwaah. Uwaahh, ahh, ah!!”

In a state of near frenzy, she banged on the button on the wall with her palm. With a jolt, the press machine gradually came to a stop.

The moaning continued.

No human body could withstand being compressed by that metal plate. Nancy was probably only alive because there had been a blanket of metal parts on the floor underneath her. Her body had sunk into the mountainous cushion of metal.

But there was still no doubt she was near death.

Maybe dying would be easier.

If she pressed a different button on the wall, the iron plate would rise again. That might be enough to save Nancy.

But…

The button was covered with something sticky. It was black and viscous, like the stuff in a garbage can next to a vending machine. If she wanted to press it, she had to get her hands dirty.

Even if the “dirt” is actually human blood and flesh.

Even if the thing stuck to it is a tiny piece of flesh, crushed skin and bones still in it.

“…Ah, ha?”

She felt the thin thread from which she was hanging snap.

She thought she heard a small rip.

“Ugah?! Gyah!! Gyaaaahhhh!!”

Vela let loose a scream strong enough to tear her throat and lurched backward. She couldn’t take any more of this. She could distinctly feel everything she’d created until now coming tumbling down. If a drop of water had fallen onto her skin right now, she was pretty sure she’d die from shock.

With such a situation, her foot tripped over something, and she fell onto her rear end with a slimy sensation.

She looked at her foot—a soft, fist-sized piece of meat clung to it.

It was crushed, but it still clearly looked like a human’s lower jaw.

“Uwaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!”

She flung it away and tried to flee.

But when she ripped her gaze away, she met another colleague. Well, met may not have been the proper term. His body was bound by thick wire and boiled in high-temperature steam that had sprayed from a severed pipe—whether or not the word met applied here was a mystery.

Vomit and excreta burst forth.

The mask covering her face got in the way, and the contents could not escape. The fluids gurgled out of her mouth and nose—but she didn’t appear to be bothered by the discomfort. She didn’t have time to be.

“Hee, uah, aaahhhhhh…”

Her voice sounded like it had been spread out very thinly, coming out as a long groan.

Vela looked at the silent radio. This was what it meant.

The silence—it was simple. There was no strategy. There was no recovery, no come-from-behind plan. Every one of her colleagues had probably failed to exit the plant. Each and every one of the Hound Dogs was now incorporated into some creepy park attraction in Resource Reclamation and Treatment Plant 3. They’d been wiped out. The others had probably ended up like she was now—mentally broken, robbed of any ability to make judgments, standing still. And then they’d been toyed with and cooked.

Vela’s hands lost their grip. Her radio and submachine gun clattered to the floor. She, too, collapsed to her knees.

Who the hell was she fighting?

Accelerator had never used weapons before—on purpose. He’d never considered the terrain. All he did was advance, his supernatural ability cutting through any obstacles. She had thought, anyway, that the chances to kill him were pretty good depending on their strategy now that his ability was limited.

But everything was different now.

He used weapons. He took advantage of the building. He predicted how they would think, devised the most efficient way to throw them into confusion, and executed his plan. He wasn’t just letting his anger drive him to beat them to death—he was hitting them with immense mental damage and even leaving them to try to find ways they wouldn’t be killed.

The terrifying thing was the growth rate of his mental capabilities. He was no longer just a child completely reliant on his power. He used everything he could get his hands on to murder. He’d turned into a huge threat already, but the magnitude of that danger would speed along, ever growing—until nobody could handle him, and he destroyed the world.

The sheer astonishment paralyzed Vela’s mind. He’d even taken the right to be scared away from her.

He was a demon.

And in their foolishness, the Hound Dogs had helped him break out of his shell.

Click.

A soft footfall rang out directly behind Vela.

Without turning around, her head hanging, she smiled a little.

11

A watery gurgle echoed through the dark restaurant.

Clumps of blood began to drip onto the floor.

As Kamijou was just about to deliver his punch, he faltered at the sight. The blood was definitely fresh. He looked blankly at the point the redness had burst from.

At Vento’s mouth, which had just been celebrating triumph a few moments before.

“Urgh…” She bent over, put her hands to her mouth, and produced another gurgling cough. With each breath, more sticky, heavy fluid leaked from her fingers.

“Gah, ah, ah…”

She took a couple of shaky steps back. Her previous calm was gone. It didn’t look like an act; it looked like she was actually in pain.

What…?

The sudden bloody outburst had almost frozen Kamijou’s thoughts like a bucket of water. A side effect of her spell? I feel bad for her, but maybe this is my chance.

He snapped out of it. It pained him to swing a fist at someone suffering, but frankly, he didn’t have the luxury to spout niceties. If he didn’t take her down while he still could, she could involve even more victims in her half-serious games.

He clenched his teeth, steeled himself, and gripped his right fist.

“G-gwaahhhhh!!”

But before he could move, Vento spun around and swung her barbed-wire hammer in the wrong direction. It arced along her chain, creating sparks between them. The levity from earlier was gone. She swung like a drunk trying to hit someone—wildly and violently.

With a heavy crash, a huge hole opened in the wall. Vento ran for it. She sent a few attacks at the pursuing Kamijou before jumping out of the building and fleeing.

“…” In this situation, he honestly wasn’t sure whether he should follow her or not.

What…was that? Vento didn’t do anything else, like destroying both Kamijou and the restaurant from outside. She didn’t seem like she gave a damn about the patrons, so she must have had her hands full dealing with whatever strange thing was happening to her body, without any room to think about anything else.

In his head, Kamijou slowly organized the new problems that had appeared.

God’s Right Seat…

Vento of the Front…

…and the Roman Orthodox Church.

12

Kuroko Shirai and Kazari Uiharu were in Judgment Branch Office 177.

The name sounded grand, but it was really just a room in the middle school Uiharu attended.

Several desks were arranged in a line, but not the plywood-and-metal-pipe kind you usually saw in classrooms. They were more like the kinds found in an office, with work laptops on the desks. A bag of potato chips, its owner evidently not caring about the delicate electronics, was plopped down at one of them.

Kazari Uiharu plunged her hands into the plastic bag and rustled around. “Shiraaai, do you want a Chinese-style rice bowl or a fish meal for dinner?”

“What does it matter?!”

“Huh? Okay, then I’ll just take the rice bowl.”

“I’m eating that one! Mgh, at this very moment, Big Sister and that rotten ape-man are walking together down the street at night and— Ugaaaahhhhhh!!”

The twin-tailed girl Kuroko Shirai pounded the desk with her hands.

Their voices were the only ones in the room. There was a big radio, too, but that had been quiet. In general, Judgment duty ended with the final school closing time, because their main responsibility was settling school quarrels. Still being in the workplace at this hour wasn’t part of the regular schedule.

Kazari Uiharu, one of those girls working overtime, took out her cell phone.

“Oh, it’s time for the variety show I always watch!”

“Do your job, Uiharu!!”

“Do you have the right to say that, Shirai? By the way, I’m smart enough to watch TV and work at the same time.”

Her phone probably had TV on it, but she must have really liked this particular program, because she took the time to switch on the big-screen television in the room.

“Hmph!”

But when a vexed Shirai took the remote control away, she accidentally changed it to a different channel. A completely dull and uninteresting news show appeared. “Ahh! What did you do, Shirai?!” cried Uiharu as they began struggling to gain possession of the remote.

“And now we turn to, hmm…N-news from Academy City.”

Startled, Shirai and Uiharu stopped their war and turned toward the TV.

This news broadcast was a national one, based outside of Academy City. Such “outsider” organizations almost never ran news about the city. That was probably part of the reason why the newscaster had fumbled.

“There appears to be an intruder running amok in Academy City. We’re hearing that damage inside the city is spreading. Ishisura is at the scene. Ishisura?”

The picture on the screen changed.

It was a rough, super-magnified image; the camera was probably outside Academy City. It showed a blurry figure walking on a rain-pelted road—a woman in yellow clothing.

The woman’s gait was unsteady as she moved unconscious people out of the way with her foot, walking down the rainy street. She was sticking out her tongue, and a long chain connected to it was swaying side to side.

Then, before showing the reporter on the scene, the camera rocked and made a clattering noise, and the image was immediately covered in gray static. The newscaster in the studio said the person’s name several more times but got no response. It wasn’t clear whether the reporter was even there.

The studio immediately came back onscreen.

It was perfect timing—just barely not a broadcasting error.

“Th-that must have been the intruder.”

A commentator sitting next to the newscaster answered, voice cool as a cucumber. “Given the state of Academy City’s security, it doesn’t seem very probable that this is a simple degenerate targeting the students, unlike schools elsewhere.”

“Right.”

“It could be a terrorist act against so-called science worshippers or a theft of cutting-edge technology. Perhaps it’s something like that.”

“Which means that the thing most of our viewers are worried about, the safety of the children, could be affected?”

“Of course,” the commentator agreed, shaking his head very theatrically. “There are children being caught up in adult problems. It could even be someone worse than a phantom slasher. I say—who was that woman in the image? It is true that slowly, the lives of children are being treated with less importance, but there is no way we can leave someone so absurdly unsuited for our society to their own—”

A series of thumps interrupted.

The commentator had suddenly fallen forward, his forehead hitting the table.

“?” Shirai frowned.

She thought it was another theatric display of his, but then the commentator’s limp body fell to the side and down beneath the table. She heard the announcer scream. The camera wobbled from side to side, and young people in casual clothes who looked like advertisements came dashing into the studio.

A series of powerful voices shouting orders came from off camera, and the image immediately switched to a commercial. Clearly, they were having some sort of trouble.

Uiharu took her eyes off the young female talent—whose small face was well known—acting impressed at how wonderful a foaming face wash was and turned back to Shirai.

“…Wait, did we get a report about that video they had on? I’ve been buried in paperwork all day long, so I didn’t notice. But if a single person overpowered Anti-Skill, then she must be extremely dangerous. Why do such creepy types keep invading…?”

“Judgment almost never gets called out for stuff out of school…or at night, either. If things were really bad, we’d get a support request from Anti-Skill. Until then, let’s get as much of this work done as…”

“…”

Kazari Uiharu didn’t answer her.

Shirai saw her body sway back, then fall to the floor with no reaction. She heard a pretty loud slam, but she didn’t show any signs of movement.

Startled, Shirai ran over to her. “Uiharu!!”

Despite shouting her name in her ear, despite slapping the collapsed Uiharu in the face, there was absolutely no response.

She didn’t know what was going on. The television sound came back to her.

The commercial had ended, but the news program hadn’t come back on yet. Instead there was the message WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE overlaid on the screen.

13

He’d mostly finished cleaning up the Hound Dogs.

It was still necessary to stay alert for ambushes, since he didn’t know their exact numbers, but Accelerator’s instincts told him the battle was over.

What he’d just done, from the time he’d sprung his traps to the duration of the intervals of silence, was a program—one that had done all the needed cerebro-physiological calculations to send his victims 100 percent into a state of pure terror.

Not a fear they could overcome with belief and willpower but an emotion beaten into them on a brain impulse level. Nobody would be able to fight properly now. As long as they were human—as long as they weren’t completely off their rocker—this attack was inescapable. Crying, wailing, and waving their arms and legs was about the most they could do.

Accelerator popped open the bottle of washing material he’d found in the plant. He poured the clear liquid down his head, emptying it, then tossed the container to the side. Kihara’s gotta do something now. This was all a lucky break in my book, but I hope the shithead panics. Reports will get to him in a few minutes. What should I do before then?

His objective was rescuing Last Order.

But he didn’t know where the girl was right now, since she was still running away—and actually, he didn’t even know that for sure. It would be a different story if he could get through to her via cell phone, but that didn’t seem like a very viable option. To help her, he should focus his energy on obstructing Kihara and his dogs.

He’d draw all their attention to him. The only way to win was to get them to think this: We need to do something about Accelerator here before stealing our goal, Last Order. Of course, the more that came true, the more of a bind it would place Accelerator in…

Doesn’t matter what happens. I’ll do it.

Using the shotgun as a cane, he headed for the facility’s exit.

Interrogating the Hound Dogs for information was an option, but he avoided doing so. He couldn’t use his ability in the plant, and with his cane, he couldn’t carry an adult outside. The only reason he’d won thus far was because he’d planned ahead. He couldn’t be careless now, even if the opposition was seriously wounded. One bullet was enough to kill Accelerator in his current state. If he messed up and they turned the tables on him, there would be no one left to save Last Order.

Accelerator thought about his next objective.

Maybe I’ll look in the Hound Dogs’ minivan again. Don’t think they’ll have left a piece of paper telling me where their base is, but I’ve gotta get a little info on where the other groups are if I want to crush them.

Then he stopped thinking. There were bloodstains on the floor.

He saw the spots of red leading off and frowned slightly. The enemy soldiers had all moved as he’d planned, taken by fear, and he’d finished them off one at a time. This route, though—he didn’t remember using it to corner anyone.

Someone was still alive.

“…”

As far as he could tell from the bloody route left behind, the enemy had been uncertain, his focus wandering. In his state of extreme fear, he was afraid of everything. It looked like Accelerator’s mental manipulation had worked.

Or maybe he’s just pretending, and leading me in.

He and his cane slowly followed the trail of blood.

It led to a small emergency exit. A green light-up sign was above the metal door. Next to the door was a box on the wall, protected by reinforced glass. It was cracked, and the lever inside had been moved.

Someone had unlocked it and gotten out.

Accelerator leaned against the wall next to the door, then touched the knob by reaching out with one hand. The cane was getting in the way again. If he could use both hands, one of them would already be ready and waiting on his electrode choker. His ability could go off accidentally, but he might still have to use it if it came to that.

He slowly turned the knob.

Without a sound, he pushed the door open.

“…”

Nothing suspicious here.

At least, it didn’t look like there were any bombs planted or anything. After making sure of that, he flung the door open all the way.

The rain had become a downpour and pelted his body. It was a comfortable, stimulating feeling for him, since he’d been lurking inside the hot, oppressive factory this whole time.

But…

“I see…”

He wasn’t smiling.

This place he was standing in—it was the second floor. Down the steel emergency staircase was about twenty meters of asphalt, and a wire-netting fence beyond that to mark the property.

He saw a figure squirming up the fence.

The figure’s black suit was a dead giveaway—a Hound Dog.

Also, a car was parked right outside the fence. Accelerator had a good idea of the black-suit’s destination.

He thought it was Hound Dog reinforcements, but he was wrong.

The car was a patrol car used by real Anti-Skill officers.

Why the hell…? thought Accelerator.

There was something wrong with them showing up here.

This was a battle between darkness and more darkness—it wasn’t a place regular folk should be coming to, was it?

“……………………………………………………………………”

A thin, slight breath escaped Accelerator’s lips.

He had no words.

The black-suit’s wailing reached his ears as he stood there silently.

Despite twenty meters and a downpour separating them, he heard the yelling clear as day.

“Hey! Is anyone in there?! Help…Help me! Help me, now! You’re Anti-Skill—you protect people in the city, right?! Then get me to safety already! It’s him…He did all this! Ha-ha! Fuck you! I was saved, and now you can’t get to me, you demon!!”

Accelerator heard noise.

Wordsmorepatheticthananyhe’dheardbefore,despitesomuchtimespentintheworldofdarkness.

“You hear me? You can struggle all you want, but it’s over! I’ve got Anti-Skill on my side. If you want to kill me, then just try! But if you touch Anti-Skill, they’ll put you on the official wanted list!! Now your days with that fucking brat you wanted to protect so badly are all over! You’ll be sent right back to a heartless laboratory! I hope you enjoy your life as a lab rat!! Gya-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!”

The hand holding the shotgun filled with intense power.

His mind burst.

Everything—the choker’s battery, conserving it because only seven minutes remained, not being able to fight Kihara if he used it here—everything went straight out the window.

Accelerator put his hand on his neck.

He didn’t hesitate.

I’ll make a bloody mess of that shithead even if it kills me.

That was the only thing on his mind right now.

14

Ryouta Saikou and Edao Sugiyama were lucky Anti-Skill officers.

While most of the city’s peacekeeping agencies were grinding to a halt, they’d been sleeping. Accidentally, anyway—they hadn’t fallen into a dead sleep like the other members. Nobody was answering them on the car radio, but they decided it was malfunctioning. For better or worse, they’d been left out to dry.

For better, in this case.

Because Saikou and Sugiyama had gotten out of the car, from the driver’s and passenger’s side respectively, and were currently walking over to help the blood-splattered man climbing up the fence.

At that very moment, the first thing they heard was a war cry.

A bestial shout from a person.

Before Saikou and Sugiyama could find the source of the bellow, the second wave hit.

There was a thick metal door.

It spun toward them end over end at an insane speed, then just barely scraped by the skins of the two officers, crashing like a giant buzz-saw blade straight into the patrol car they’d parked.

Gr-graaash!!

Sparks flew everywhere as the car suddenly bent into an L shape.

It was like a cannonball suddenly slammed into the side of the normal, unremarkable car. The back half came up vertically, while the front was crushed like paper and twisted to the side. The immense force didn’t even let the car slide that way—the part hit by the “cannonball” spread open like a metal flower.

The metal door that destroyed the automobile didn’t slow down. It crashed into the asphalt, shattering it, and finally stopped. The gasoline pipe had been torn through in one swing, and an equally severed cable brushed against it. They started sparking.

That was all it needed. The sideswiped car exploded, spreading flames and smoke.

“Wh-what?!”

Saikou couldn’t see anything with so much smoke, and that was all he could shout.

The metal door had flown at them with such incredible speed that he didn’t know what had made the car explode. Not being able to see anything caused his sense of urgency to start ballooning.

He couldn’t see his colleague, either, even though he was right next to him.

And through the smoke…

“Gyaah?! Stop, no!!”

The voice of a man he didn’t know rang in his ears. Before Saikou realized it was the man who they were about to take to safety…

“Wait, please, wait, Accelerator! No, please, this isn’t…!! Anti-Skill! Wh-wh-wh-wh-wh-where are you?! Help, eebyah, byahh, gowahhhhhhhhhhhh?!”

There was a loud crunch, like someone biting into a firm hot dog. Saikou, feeling a threat to his safety, drew his pistol on reflex but couldn’t do anything else. The smoke was too thick. He couldn’t get a read on anything. If he shot blindly, he could hit Sugiyama or the man they were trying to secure. He couldn’t even tell what was happening beyond the veil of smoke, where to fire his gun, or whether the “thing” causing all of it was a person or a beast.

“Stop, stop! Don’t move! Step away from that man!!” shouted Saikou anyway, blindly guessing where to point his gun.

He thought he heard a laugh from very close by. Not a very loud one; it sounded accidental, like someone was trying hard not to laugh.

The dull noises continued.

After about ten seconds, the screams stopped.

Saikou was never able to make a move.

Some things in this world should never be seen.

He knew instinctively that the smoke blinding him was a stroke of fortune.

The downpour extinguished the fires from the exploded vehicle. With it, the smoke clouding his vision also subsided at last.

Sugiyama had fallen onto his behind right next to him.

He moved his mouth up and down, but no voice came out. However, his face pale, he was pointing to the ground with a shaking finger.

Saikou looked.

The man they had been about to secure—he wasn’t there. He looked all over, but nothing.

The spot Sugiyama pointed at…

…held nothing but a small bloodstain and two torn-off human big toes.

INTERLUDE SEVEN

Academy City’s periphery had many faces to it. The city boasted a surface area equal to one third of Tokyo, so the scenery and characteristics of the periphery changed completely depending on which side it was facing—toward east Tokyo, Kanagawa, Saitama, or Yamanashi.

Motoharu Tsuchimikado was currently running through what seemed like an area between city and forest. Several giant, abandoned factories were buried in the thick coniferous woodland. Fiercely thriving weeds and ivies coiled up their concrete walls, relentlessly incorporating them into nature.

In one of those buildings, Tsuchimikado loudly screeched to a halt.

The place looked like it was formerly a bus maintenance station belonging to a transportation company.

The concrete-walled space was somewhat smaller than a school gymnasium. Its costly equipment had been removed, leaving only useless, rusted hunks of metal. They made it feel deserted, but there were still steel scaffoldings to walk on up where the second and third levels would be. The upper paths were made of wire netting, and they were littered with holes due to rust.

Half the ceiling had caved in, and the rain was mercilessly pouring inside. One entire wall consisted of metal shutters, but those had rusted over and fallen as well.

…Here it is. A wooden stake was sticking out of the floor in front of him.

It was massive, too. Fifteen centimeters in diameter and over three meters long. Its tip, pointing straight up, was sharpened like a pencil tip. Pelted by countless raindrops, its surface had water dripping down it like a shower of blood.

It was an article of magic. Was that the Chinese windmill palm he saw in it?

“Now here’s a surreal sight.”

Tsuchimikado’s lips twisted into a smile, and a moment later, more three-meter-long stakes burst out of it, covering its surface all around. They weren’t wooden stakes—they were made of stake-like pieces of wood. He danced back, away from their edges, as more of the stakes shot forth from the floor nearby, the path on the second story, and the piles of rusted equipment, all of them striking out directly toward his body.

He continued his backstepping with meandering, snakelike movements, and as though they felt they couldn’t catch up, several stakes exploded. With a bang and a boom, they sent hundreds of fragments flying at him.

Tsuchimikado, sometimes ducking and sometimes hiding behind machinery, let all of them whiz past.

In a matter of seconds, the place had turned into an execution site covered with dozens of stakes.

The giant pencils grew like grass across the entire floor around him.

I get it. They were planning on attacking Academy City like this, too. By skewering everyone who couldn’t move. Bastards, he swore, adjusting his positioning slightly and moving his head.

These “stakes” were probably growing in other places beyond the maintenance facility, too.

Purposely guiding me into this trap—no, this is too large-scale for that. It’d make more sense to look at it as something they’d plunge right into the middle of their real objective.

The Chinese windmill palm’s primary meaning was “blessing.” By using that trait, it would also be possible to grant it the property of slipping by any defenses that would “check” or “repel” it. If Tsuchimikado had carelessly used defensive sorcery, the attack would be recognized as a “blessing,” and the stakes would have easily gotten past it and pierced every spot on his body.

He’d be surprised if they’d actually brought thousands of them with them, but…

“Hmph. They’re cheatin’ their numbers.”

The explosive stakes suddenly stopped appearing.

Something sounded slimy.

From the previously empty darkness appeared a figure in white.

It was like looking at the light at the end of a tunnel. The man who had cast the spell cut away the darkness like a removed puzzle piece. Because of his glow, perhaps, twelve shadows appeared at equal positions around his feet in a circle, like an analogue clock.

As though the shadows were themselves the key to triggering the spell, each continued to expand and retract, obeying unheard commands.

“…” Tsuchimikado took a step forward, yet he didn’t get any closer.

The man didn’t seem to have moved, but somehow, he’d kept his distance. Almost like saying Tsuchimikado could never close the gap between them.

Not good…

To make things worse, he felt more than one presence nearby. Several of them, in fact, both inside and outside this building. In total, they numbered in the dozens. At this rate, other people like them could be fanning out in other spots in Academy City’s periphery.

Tsuchimikado spoke quietly to the silent enemies.

“Three to indicate the celestial planes, four for the earth, and twelve for the world. You don’t need to prepare all the stakes. By appending meaning to a specific ‘number’ of them, they gain a single unit of ‘vastness,’ eh?”

The point was, if he found one of the seven core stakes and broke even one of them, it would forbid the enemy’s spell.

Out of all these stakes.

From these mountains of stakes, of which there were already thousands, and likely more to come.

Tsuchimikado grinned. “Nice spell, but…this isn’t Crossist. This comes from the theories of the Pythagorean Order in BC-era Greece. Since when did the lot of you start accepting the world before the Son of God was born?”

His words must have incited rage in the man.

The blurry figure roared.

An earsplitting boom rang out. Wooden stakes exploded, shaking the entire facility. The rust on the walkways on the second and third floor and the half-collapsed roof fell off and were given “power.” New stakes burst from the rusty fragments’ surfaces, assailing Tsuchimikado from all angles.

As they stabbed toward him from every which way, the space between them closed up, causing stakes to knock together, each destroying the other with sharp smashing noises.

But Tsuchimikado was already gone.

He was now standing on a steel-built third-story walkway high up in the building.

Cold, inhuman eyes looked up and found him from far below.

The countless stakes completely covering the concrete floor exploded one after another, their shards of flak heading up at Tsuchimikado. He jumped across the walkway, avoiding the rusted-out holes. The path right behind him continued to break, snap, and crumble.

A drop of blood slowly trickled down from the corner of his lip. Not because a magic attack had hit him—but because he’d used magic himself to jump to the third-story walkway.

Tsuchimikado was both an esper and a sorcerer.

And when an esper used sorcery, his body would reject it and be harmed.

Shit. Nothing good will come of dragging this on, he thought, wiping away the blood.

There was no sense of distance with that figure. It was like chasing an afterimage left on his eyes. The more he advanced, the more the figure would retreat, and the more he retreated, the more the figure would approach—a slippery one indeed. Directly striking the figure like this would be impossible—well, maybe not, but at least extremely difficult.

Instead of being particular about that, he should stop the mountains of stakes from working first. After he stole the figure’s weapon, he could take his time handling him.

“How unfortunate.”

As the rusted walkway cracked, boomed, and smashed apart behind him, Tsuchimikado jumped over its holes, pushing toward a single destination.

“Whenever I see such an intricate spell, I almost don’t want to destroy it!!”

In front of him was a single wooden stake, buried in the rest of them.

It was one of the seven—and the weak point controlling them all.