CHAPTER 4

Here Begins the Counterattack
Heroes_Congregate.

1

Three attack helicopters provided by the Russian Ground Forces tore through the white scenery. Pushing speeds of about three hundred kilometers per hour, the helicopters were large and heavily laden with ammunition. The sound of their rotors hitting the air was grand as well. Many people associated helicopters with being extremely loud, but military models tended to be quieter than others.

The design philosophies were probably different from their American counterparts, which concentrated on small size, high speed, and little sound. The fact that it took three crew to operate a single helicopter meant they weren’t exactly the most commonplace machines. As kings of the sky, they had no need to hide. In exchange, by loading as much ammunition on board as they could, they aimed to deal as much damage to the enemy as possible. That’s what these machines were for.

They left air-to-air combat, where both speed and maneuverability were necessities, entirely up to fighter jets like MiGs and Sukhois, and they didn’t even consider engaging in helicopter-versus-helicopter combat. Instead, they were designed to blow up all surface targets without fail. That was the sort of specialization they’d been made with. That was what it meant to be an aircraft belonging to the ground forces.

“This is pretty nice. I could get used to this kind of layout,” one of the privateer pilots said.

They didn’t share a common nationality. No common religion, ethnicity, gender, or age. Even their tastes in food and music were so different it was almost funny.

They only shared one thing:

The desire to kill—and kill one-sidedly.

“This thing’s a vaunted prototype that one of the largest militaries in the world was developing in secret. I can’t get enough of it. I’m basically living the life of a main character in a side-scrolling shoot-’em-up.”

“It’s not just a test machine.”

A transmission came in from another pilot in their group.

“This is a prototype test on a tactical level—to see whether large aircraft designs are still practical. No guarantee military tactical theories will work with them…And the Russians seem to want them coordinating with smaller helicopters and fighter jets when they actually deploy them into real combat zones. They could have a whole list of shortcomings—namely, people on the ground having an easier time hitting them because of the increased size.”

“None o’ that matters. We just have to hit them before they hit us. All we gotta do is blast ’em with long-range missiles before we enter their firing range. That’s why these things are so big, right? Just like a side-scrolling shmup—we can fire away without worrying about how much ammo we’ve got left.”

As they were bantering, the target location was approaching.

A small settlement where the only stuff piled up was rubble.

The armored car and anti-air cannon vehicle that had gone ahead of them had evidently met with resistance and were now immobilized. But none were indignant about it. They didn’t care whether other privateers got captured or killed or whatever. The battle that was about to begin was simply more important to them.

Gripping the yoke so hard it creaked (and while exposing how self-educated his way of squeezing it was), the pilot let out a cry as though excited by the sound of the rotors.

“Ah-ha-ha!! Kill ’em, kill ’em, kill ’em aaaaaaaaaalllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll!!”

2

A low growl escaped Accelerator’s throat.

The motorcade of large vehicles had stopped a few dozen meters in front of him. The back section of one had been utterly destroyed. And he’d seen one boy open the destroyed vehicle’s front door and step out onto the snow.

The one.

The boy who had once stopped the experiment that would have been fulfilled through the murder of twenty thousand Sisters.

Accelerator knew he didn’t have a good reason to feel anger toward him. His words and actions had no justification, no integrity. Any outsider, from their perspective, would have judged him to be the one in the wrong.

But.

What if the hero, great enough to put a stop to that damned experiment, was to die so easily, for such a shitty reason? What if this being who existed for the sake of stopping tragedies, the one who occupied the most important position in Accelerator’s mind, lost so simply?

Then, in the realest sense:

This world would already be over.

“Ooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!”

A scream.

The black wings burst from Accelerator’s back anew. After instantly stretching to over a hundred meters long, he turned them into terrible weapons and swung them down at the Level Zero boy’s head.

There was a shattering roar.

The destructive power was enough to cleave a high-rise building vertically in one strike.

Despite that, the boy who was his target didn’t end up a clumpy puddle of flesh.

The cause—his right hand.

That one arm, held directly aloft, disbursed the jet-black darkness.

“…”

Accelerator’s lips twisted slightly.

What was he thinking, deep down in his heart, about the boy not dying in his first attack?

Without coming to a clear answer himself, Accelerator swung his black wings again.

This time, in a horizontal sweep.

A blow that would have severed any object that existed in the world in two at chest height shot cruelly toward the Level Zero boy.

This one, too, was repelled by his right hand.

But the situation was different. Despite canceling out the black wings, the boy still staggered to the side, as though shoved by the force.

Accelerator knew: That boy had a secret that could cancel out Academy City’s top Level Five power with just a touch. But he also knew the boy couldn’t deal with attacks that blew away everything in a fixed area, like intense winds or plasma. Either he couldn’t cancel out force exceeding a certain level, couldn’t deal with abilities applied over an area, or didn’t have the strength to cancel out secondary physical phenomena caused by supernatural abilities. Accelerator hadn’t discovered the correct answer yet, but he didn’t need to understand the logic or rules behind it to know what he had to do to crush this Level Zero boy.

In other words.

I’ll use overwhelming force, give him no chance to counterattack, and pound him to bits…!!

A dull, creaking pain assailed the back of his head.

It was like his left and right brain were going to split apart, and something was about to fly out from within it.

This was abnormal.

It wasn’t even clear whether it was really Academy City’s number one Level Five.

He didn’t know what would happen.

He could begin to disintegrate in the process.

But he clenched his teeth. So what?

In this place.

In this situation alone.

He had to rally every last ounce of his strength and fight at full power.

Boom!! The wind roared.

His pair of black wings turned into dozens of sharp stakes, lashing out toward the Level Zero boy as he tried to run in closer. Accelerator wasn’t aiming for the small target from many directions—he was laying down a carpet bombing on an area that included the boy.

A shock wave ripped out.

White snow and black earth erupted over ten meters into the air, blocking their field of view. Accelerator could see giant cracks forming in the ground here and there. Seismographs had probably picked up the shaking from far away.

The boy standing in the center of the blast couldn’t have been safe.

Even if he could nullify powers with just his right hand, he couldn’t have been able to intercept all those attacks without missing anyone.

The damage had definitely been done.

There was no way the Level Zero boy would be saved.

And even the resulting shock wave created by a single one of the dozens of stakes packed enough punch to mash up an unarmed human body.

It should have ended with that.

As he gained victory, so, too, would Accelerator have lost a glimmer of hope.

And yet.

A figure stood before him, swaying beyond the dust of white snow and black earth.

The Level Zero boy was standing.

He wasn’t unharmed, of course.

His clothes were stained with dirt. Something red dripped from near his temple. It seemed like his center of gravity was leaning to the side somehow.

But the boy was still standing.

Standing on his on two legs, never breaking.

“Ha, ha-ha…”

Accelerator chuckled quietly.

He didn’t understand the logic. The boy shouldn’t have been able to deal with that attack with just his right hand. But Accelerator was definitely grinning. He appeared to be enjoying this. It was like he was happy his theory that his attack was absolute had been overturned.

And that.

That looked to him like a symbol that he’d easily leaped off the unalterable rails of fate.

“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!! Gya-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!!”

Laughing, Accelerator funneled even greater energy into his black wings.

The awful cracking sound inside his skull got louder.

The Level Zero boy, fist clenched, ran toward Accelerator.

This time, it wouldn’t be a warm-up.

This was where the real clash would begin.

3

“They’re here.”

Digurv, only his head poking out from the anti-air tank’s upper hatch, announced it with binoculars in one hand. Hamazura was in the front of the same anti-air tank, sitting in the seat for controlling the caterpillar treads and moving the vehicle—because there was nothing else he could do. The controls were similar to heavy construction equipment like excavators, but he couldn’t fully handle expert work like manning the radar or aiming the machine guns at targets.

Peering out the horizontal slit made of reinforced glass to glance at the snowfield, Hamazura asked:

“Is it attack helicopters like we thought?”

“Yeah, a group of three,” Digurv answered, without looking in his direction. “Never seen the type before. They’re pretty large. Maybe they’re doubling as prototype tests.”

“Russia’s always had a long history of pouring resources into weapons development on large helicopters,” the frostbitten Russian soldier cut in from the side.

His name seemed to be Grickin.

“After all, the world’s largest transport helicopter apparently has the same carrying capacity as a C-130 transport plane. Russia’s the only nation that tries to make helicopters based on those design principles, regardless of what’s technologically feasible.”

As he listened to Grickin, Hamazura could feel his own face going white.

“If they’re huge, that means they’re loaded with a lot of ammo and bombs, right?”

His fingers ran over the rough lever in the anti-air tank.

He’d wanted to set himself at ease by confirming that they had troop strength of their own, but it had had zero effect.

“Brand-new prototypes?” Hamazura hissed. “Are we going to be okay? Damn it, we can’t fight them in a broken-down anti-air weapon!”

“No, that might actually give us the chance,” Digurv explained.

“?”

“It means it’s entirely possible these are unreliable prototypes, since they gave them to privateers to test instead of real soldiers. If we were facing attack helicopters that have been proven to be highly reliable on the front lines after countless hours of trial by combat, then we’d have had no real chance of winning.”

“Either way, this is still gonna be a death match!”

“Here they come,” Digurv noted as he peered through his binoculars.

These short words sparked tension within the vehicle.

“…They’re probably hit-and-run types, with most of their emphasis on top speed. They can’t flutter around, so after they go through the battlefield, they’ll probably make a big U-turn before starting a new attack run.”

“Which means we’re in for a Wild West shoot-out. The only way to win is by trading shots as they go past.”

Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba!! They began to hear the giant rotors hitting the air.

Even from the little slit in the driver’s seat, Hamazura could see three shadows in the white sky. At this rate, they’d pass overhead in no time at all.

The last thing they wanted to do was let those helicopters get past them.

If they didn’t stop the helicopters here, everyone fleeing from the settlement would be killed.

“Here we go!!” shouted Digurv.

Hamazura grabbed the levers for controlling the treads, while Grickin reached for the device that rotated the turrets.

The battle had begun.

When they’d gotten within three hundred meters of the attack helicopters, the anti-air tank’s muzzle erupted with fire. In exchange for the cannons’ firing rate being somewhat lower than regular machine guns, low taiko drumlike beating threw itself against Hamazura’s ears.

The attack helicopters split off from their formation with the sound of artillery fire. Orange sparks leaped from one—a round had connected. But it wasn’t enough to take it down.

“They’ve got thick armor since they’re so big?!”

“Hamazura, it’s their turn! We’ll have missiles coming down on us like rain next!!”

As Digurv shouted, Hamazura quickly pulled the anti-air vehicle backward. The steel treads dug into the ground with enough force to spray snow everywhere as they forced the heavy machine where it needed to go.

Caterpillar treads gave the impression of sloth, but this was still a military vehicle. Glancing at the speedometer, it was apparently designed to reach speeds of about seventy kilometers per hour maximum.

However.

The speed of the attack helicopters ripping through the skies was on a completely different level.

“Hmm-hm-hmm!”

Meanwhile, the pilot of one attack helicopter, strengthening his grip on the flight yoke, was even licking his lips. Machine guns or missiles—he could smash that anti-air tank to smithereens with all kinds of stuff. After leaving the airspace, he pulled around in a wide U-turn, raised his speed, and dropped his altitude to take aim at the target.

“Morons! If you survived, you should have just played dead!! Then your chances of holding out might have been a little higher!!”

The vehicle, its anti-air attack having failed, seemed to be desperately trying to run. However, it wouldn’t be a challenge for the attack helicopters, equipped with all kinds of sensors. The pilot used his thumb to flick open a protective cover near the top of the yoke, then went right ahead and pushed the red “fire missile” button.

With a trail of white smoke, the little missile sped toward its target. It was too late for it to take evasive maneuvers, and besides, a self-propelled anti-air cannon on caterpillar treads wouldn’t have the speed to dodge it anyway. They seemed to be trying to escape into the tall coniferous trees in the woods, but that was pointless.

“Hee-hee!! Now you’re toast!!” the pilot shouted.

…But the results he’d hoped for didn’t materialize.

It was probably because they’d hidden in the trees. The missile had struck the top of one of them, which hung out like a roof right over the anti-air tank.

Flames and a shock wave rippled out, but even the anti-air tank, with its relatively thin armoring compared to actual tanks, was nearly unharmed. The conifers blown away by the missile broke apart, raining down on their surroundings.

Plus…

“You just gave us an opening, you piece of shit!” shouted Hamazura. “Grickin!!”

Grickin, manning the turrets, pulled a lever. A surface-to-air missile, fixed to the side of the machine guns, ignited and headed for the sky.

The sky that was just a moment ago blocked by trees.

But the SAM shot out from the hole the helicopter’s attack had opened up.

“?!”

The pilot’s throat dried up for a moment, but the missile didn’t fly to him. It penetrated a different helicopter, one who had been preparing for a second flyby.

With an explosion, black smoke sullied the Russian air.

The attack helicopter, now an orange chunk of metal, crashed into the white, snowy ground. There was another explosion, an even bigger one.

But the pilot wasn’t sad for his colleagues’ demise.

“Rain time.”

Using his comm, he prompted the other attack helicopter to join up with him.

“Missiles will get blocked. We’ll rain machine-gun fire on them and pump ’em full of holes!!”

The two helicopters veered off in two completely different directions. After a U-turn, they immediately flew toward the forest where the anti-air tank was hiding.

They were set up to strafe from two directions at once.

The anti-air tank frantically hid in some conifers, but the same trick wouldn’t work again. The helicopters’ sensors had a clear read on something big and metal, and thirty-millimeter Gatling cannons could shoot through those conifers like paper. They couldn’t use their cover this time.

But then he looked at the radar again.

“Wha?!” he grunted, confused.

The radar wasn’t displaying right. He was slightly disturbed, but he still properly handled the yoke. The Gatling cannon strafing run traced a line into the ground where he wanted it to.

In time with the helicopter’s movements, a string of bullets flew out over the white ground.

Several thick trees snapped all at once, and a huge hole opened up in the hunk of metal hidden under them. Not just one or two, either—the bullets were making it into mincemeat.

Boom!! An explosion spread through the woods.

The target was successfully destroyed—at least, it should have been.

Nevertheless, the look on the pilot’s face wasn’t a good one.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” he asked his colleague in a voice that was more angry than confused. “Why are we getting more pings on the radar?! I don’t think we hit ’em!!”

If there had only been one anti-air tank in the trees, this couldn’t ever have possibly happened. And then a transmission came in from a colleague to answer that question.

“Look—a passenger car! They knew we’d go after them all along, and they hid a car from the settlement in the woods beforehand!! That’s why we aimed at the wrong metal indic—?!”

The voice cut off partway through the sentence.

Several orange-colored sparks flew about. His colleague’s helicopter’s armor had been shot through. Hit by a stream of fire from the anti-aircraft cannons, it exploded in midair.

“…”

At this point, the remaining pilot had the option of going back to base for now.

But he didn’t choose it.

The blood rushing to his head was one reason. But more than that, it was because they’d mowed down most of the conifers in the woods. The anti-air tank couldn’t hide anymore; even if they tried to throw off the radars with a bunch of other cars, as long as he could visually confirm them, there was no reason to be confused.

“Time…to…die.”

The pilot left the region one more time, veering away to a place the anti-air tank couldn’t reach, then performed a wide U-turn.

The next run would be the last.

Without cover, this time, this time for real, the anti-air tank wouldn’t be able to avoid the attacks from above.

“Gya-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!! You’re gonna look like a beehive when I’m finished with you!!”

4

The Strait of Dover.

Atop the solidified water’s surface British and French sorcerers fought, but now that the second princess, Carissa, and her Knights had taken to the front lines, the British side was now pushing the enemy back, albeit slowly.

The Knights’ power supply from the Curtana Second using the mobile fortress Glastonbury played an especially large part in this. The Knight Leader was also using his spell that reduced personally perceived weapon attack power to zero to great effect. Ignoring normal national borders, the knights’ swords were proving to be incredibly effective.

Though they were pushing back the French sorcerers, the Knight Leader’s expression was not pleased.

“…Whenever we’re winning smoothly, I start wondering if the enemy is setting up for something big. Must be an occupational disorder.”

“Well, given who we’re up against…”

“…”

The Knight Leader unintentionally sunk into silence at Carissa’s answer.

An opponent against whom common sense didn’t work. The French tactician—the one people called a holy woman—was one who possessed a peculiar quality unique to France.

The Femme Fatale.

Jeanne d’Arc. Marie Antoinette. Several women appeared in French history who had greatly changed the nation by their existence alone, whether for good or for ill. This tactician was another one of them. It would be an all-too-painful loss were they to execute her unfairly, but it would have been all too terrifying to grant her freedom. Thus, she had been confined by the French government to a basement in Versailles.

Up against a personage like that, maybe it was stranger that things were proceeding according to theory.

Or was his consideration that something was up actually because he’d already been stricken by the Femme Fatale’s aura?

“These guys are going to be hard to deal with, too,” asserted Carissa in an offhand tone. “If they decide they’re being cornered, we run the risk of them committing to acts of violence otherwise impossible during normal military actions. Do you know what the best way to prevent that is?”

“?”

“Gain control of the battlefield quickly, without giving them time to be confused. If our military results are great enough, they’ll go past fear. We’ll have them dumbfounded.”

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t underestimate me.”

They heard a voice, source unknown.

It was the “brain” commanding the French sorcerers from afar—the holy woman.

But Carissa grinned.

“Well, maybe if you’d come out here personally, you would have changed things.”

Protected by many a knight, Carissa made a declaration.

“But no matter what, you can’t leave that basement in Versailles. Small, compact ranged fire from a distance won’t be enough to take down our Knights. Use your head all you want—you can’t change your troop strength on the field. Using power effectively and raising the upper limit on that power are two entirely different things.”

Even as she smiled, the second princess’s tone sounded somehow bored.

“Our goal isn’t France. We don’t have time to spare on the small fry, so unless you want more casualties than you need, make way. Your job is to be the brain, right? I’m positive you know exactly what move you should make now.”

“Heh-heh.”

And then the Femme Fatale laughed.

“You know I’m the type to use her head—so I wonder why you never considered the possibility.”

“What?”

It happened right as a dubiousness came to Carissa’s eyes.

Boom!!

The Knight Leader next to her was swept off his feet by a massive impact.

“?!”

Carissa didn’t have time to be surprised.

All of a sudden, a woman had flown over to them. One wearing a gorgeous dress, mainly of comfortable white fabric. In contrast to the dress, however, her skin was an unhealthy shade of white, and her eyes were slightly sunken in. The sword she held in her hand was an awful fit for her. It was like a young man who spent all his time reading in the library was wielding a baseball bat.

She was…

Her true identity…

“…The possibility that I can actually act. And that is France’s greatest scheme.”

Her gaudy Western straight sword, mostly red and gold, pointed at Carissa.

The first one to respond was the Knight Leader.

“Zero!!”

With that one word, the Femme Fatale’s weapon’s attack power should have vanished. It should have turned into something safer than a sponge.

However.

“Cute,” said the Femme Fatale quietly and simply. “The histories of Britain and France are actually surprisingly ambiguous. Even William I, king of England, was originally a French noble.”

She didn’t move right away—perhaps because she was confident in an assured victory.

“…And your spell doesn’t apply to weapons related to the royal family, does it?”

“Blas—?!”

After seeing the Knight Leader’s shock, the Femme Fatale swung her sword.

Its speed exceeded that of sound.

It was probably like the Curtana—a special sword imbued with a national spell unique to France.

Carissa had no way of defending.

The Knights were borrowing strength from the Curtana Second, but Queen Elizard was the one actually holding the weapon. Carissa herself wasn’t even receiving its benefits. And even if the knights were to offer their bodies, the Femme Fatale’s sword would cleave through all their shields and Carissa with them.

And.

With a shrill gkkeeeeeeeeeeee!!

The blade in Second Princess Carissa’s hand parried the blow she should never have been able to block.

The Curtana Original had lost its power with the end of the coup.

The Curtana Second was in Elizard’s hand—Carissa shouldn’t have had any strength at all.

But nevertheless:

“The Durandal, eh?”

Her body wasn’t cleaved in two, didn’t have even a scratch on it. As their swords pressed against each other at point-blank range, only Carissa was grinning.

“How?” the French woman hissed to herself.

What Carissa had in her hand was silver metal only a few centimeters long, but a sword made of light was sprouting from it. Considering the force of the weapon she herself carried, the phenomenon was absolutely impossible. This was France’s sword. The destructive power of France itself. To rival it, one should have had to bring out the Curtana, equally a symbol of Britain.

“The histories of Britain and France are surprisingly ambiguous. You said so yourself, so.”

“Wh…what?”

“Your king Charlemagne thought the same. Didn’t he try to embed fragments of the holy lance in his own sword in an attempt to imbue it with sacred power and value?”

“…You don’t mean…?”

The Femme Fatale again glanced at the few short centimeters of metal.

“Is that a fragment of the Curtana Second?!”

“When I fought Mother, the Curtana Original and the Curtana Second clashed. This is a by-product from that time…Still, I hadn’t thought it would draw this much power just after passing into distinguished royalty’s hands. I can’t simply use it for crushing things. I don’t like this sword—it’s got all kinds of loopholes and secret tricks. I hate it enough to incite a coup d’état, in fact.”

A magical explosion went off between Carissa and her nemesis.

Each took distance and repositioned their swords.

“And actually, me being able to act is Britain’s greatest scheme.”

5

The action Accelerator took was a simple one: He swung the jet-black wings sprouting from his back from high to low.

However, his target this time was not the Level Zero boy running toward him.

It was the empty white ground in front of him.

A blast.

The intense destructive force whipped up a huge cloud of dust and dirt. A tsunami of earth appeared, over fifteen meters high and over three hundred meters wide. Embroiling the very scenery, it lunged toward the boy, aiming to swallow his tiny body whole.

With this, he should have died.

Even if the boy had been wearing a military powered suit, it would have crushed him into a bloody mess along with his composite material armor.

Despite that.

Wham!! The Level Zero charged through the dust cloud head-on.

Struck with rocks but never taking a fatal wound.

“…” Accelerator was surprised at first, but then he figured out the trick.

He had advance information, too.

Academy City’s number three Level Five. For Accelerator, Railgun was a fated opponent. And one of the rumors surrounding Railgun was that there was an unknown Level Zero who could deal with her ability with only his right hand.

He had his doubts.

For example, assume he did have a right hand that could cancel out any ability.

But how would he time it?

Railgun’s attacks traveled at three times the speed of sound. Her lightning lances boasted even greater speed. Even if it was an effective means of interception, getting the timing right would be a Herculean task. And if he’d gotten the timing wrong by even an instant, he might have died instantly. In that situation, how could he have easily repelled it, over and over?

Seeing this now, though, gave him a rough idea.

In other words, this was…

He can detect the signs.

For example, in Railgun’s case, whenever she used her ability, it would spread a weak magnetic field and electromagnetic waves into the surroundings. Paper clips and doorknobs lying around would rattle about. Because of the huge explosion that happened afterward, Railgun herself might not have realized it, but it was exactly like subtle rumbling portending an earthquake. Like an elementary school experiment, spreading out iron sand to see what direction invisible magnetic forces were going in…All those subtle, incidental motions would vividly telegraph the attack Railgun was about to use.

The stronger the ability, the more unintentional aftereffects it would fling around. It was like having a tell in rock-paper-scissors— maybe it gave away the next action they were about to take.

Of course, that wasn’t all.

It wasn’t limited to just that one variety.

She was nothing compared to Accelerator, but Railgun was still the third-ranked Level Five, not someone to be trifled with like that.

There were probably other kinds.

Take the lightning lances.

They were pure high-tension current, so if he held out his right hand first, then even if her aim was somewhat off, the lightning would naturally be absorbed into that outstretched right hand. It would act like a lightning rod.

Take a sword of iron sand—other than the sword gathered into her hand, iron sand in the surrounding area would faintly react to the magnetic force lines and begin to change shape. In which case, he could use the visible magnetic force lines to predict how the next attack flung out would flow. In certain cases, he could even dismantle the particle sword itself without even touching the actual thing, instead by only touching the iron sand lines scattered in the vicinity.

Each time, there was a different method for sure victory. Either it was the power at the very core of his ability—or a subtle side effect derived from it.

Even which thing was treated as more important would change each time.

The important thing wasn’t whether there was a method to win. Never relying on a single type of pattern, always reevaluating the problem from new angles, and on top of that, searching for the most suitable way to resolve things each time…Even against another esper, he understood that the same resolution wouldn’t necessarily work. He knew that even against one lightning lance, depending on what he chose at the starting point to combat it, he could have to take a completely different path.

That was why his fighting style changed.

He would rely on his defensive capacity to nullify any other abilities to avoid being killed instantly, and then he would take maximum advantage of the little bit of time it bought him, using the information he’d gotten by literally throwing himself at the problem to discover a means of survival.

His way of thinking wouldn’t be enough on its own.

His ability wouldn’t be enough on its own, either.

Only because both were present could he use these tactics that could just barely reach victory.

In a situation where he was face-to-face with death, the guts to keep his body and mind moving were probably important, too.

However.

The Level Zero himself wouldn’t be aware of that.

A basis of judgment, of how to use both the ability itself and the side effects derived from it. And the actual actions taken, the quick changing of tactics depending on the situation…He was probably only using them in conjunction with his reflexes. Even when it came to the subtle fluctuations in nearby metal items against Railgun, he wouldn’t be consciously perceiving them; his subconscious would be processing whatever he saw move slightly in the corners of his vision for him. Which meant there was no guarantee of a 100 percent success. In fact, it was highly possible that if he tried to do any of this on purpose, he would fail.

But.

Just the fact that Accelerator had hit him with an attack—and he’d survived—made him a potent force in battle. Even with that special power in their right hand, how many others could have achieved the same results?

The pure ability by itself certainly wasn’t that strong.

A comprehensive evaluation might have said it was weak.

And that was why.

This boy knew how significant hard work was in order to survive.

““Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!””

Two shouts overlapped.

The Level Zero boy leaped into his fist’s range without hesitation.

Accelerator similarly swung his black wings.

The boy’s tightly clenched right fist flew in to oppose him.

Of the two intersecting attacks, the Level Zero’s reached just a split-second faster. Accelerator’s face was punched aside, and his balance faltered for a moment. The black wings veered away, failing to hit the Level Zero boy and instead ripping right by him.

The aftermath: A blast wind whipped up, sending both combatants tumbling dozens of meters backward. The two got up on the snow, clenched their fists again, and then dashed in to minimum range, meaning to close their distance to zero.

Something dark and sinister erupted from within Accelerator’s chest.

It wasn’t only a response to the Level Zero. It was against something more vague, an urge to rail against this illogical and unfair world—his hatred and rage, bursting out of him all at once in the form of words:

“Why?! Why doesn’t anyone save that kid?! You’re supposed to be a hero! The hero who stopped that experiment with nothing but a fist!! Save her, damn it!! If you can do something nobody else can do, then give a little of that to that brat already!!”

With his roar, an even greater power escaped his wings, whipping around furiously.

As it did, he could feel something ripped apart, tearing off inside his heart.

He couldn’t stop anymore.

Not even remembering Last Order’s smile could restrain his violence.

“The fact that a shitty villain like me has been trying to stand up for her this whole time is insanity! I’m the wrong person for it, no matter how you think about it! There’s no way I’d ever be able to be a hero! No matter what, the only thing I can choose is a resolution covered in blood! Why did I have to do all this shit?! If a hero like you had come running to the rescue, I wouldn’t have ever made this mistake in the first place!! And that brat would have never had to suffeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrr!!”

Swinging wings and fists, even as they each tried to kill the other, the Level Zero boy probably didn’t understand why things had come to this. Just as Accelerator was shouting without really understanding what it was he wanted to say, obviously, nobody else would be able to.

For just a moment, the two were silent.

Their gazes averted, glancing toward a little girl fallen some distance away.

And…

The black wings expanded even more.

The wings partitioned into over a hundred pieces, and they flew at the Level Zero from every direction imaginable.

An explosion and a shock wave went off, and even the foundation rattled.

He has to be dead now…thought Accelerator. It simply wouldn’t make sense if he wasn’t.

And yet.

“How…?”

An unintentional groan escaped him.

Eventually, it turned into a huge scream.

“How did that not kill you, Mr. Hero?! If you don’t die now, everything is going to be ruined!!”

Words came back to him, from the mouth of the nearby boy who clenched his fist, which was dripping with both their blood.

“…You don’t need to be a hero.”

Several footsteps echoed on the snow.

Fist and wings crossed.

Several attacks hit their mark, pounding through air, and blood splattered.

“I’m just a Level Zero! Do I look like some kind of superhero to you?! Good guys? Bad guys? Don’t give me that bullshit. Do you have to pick a side to save anyone?! Someone you don’t want to cry is crying right in front of you! She can’t even ask you to save her—she just has to bite her lip and endure it!! Isn’t that enough for you?! Enough for you to stand up for her?! You don’t need some special position or reason!! That’s all you need for it to be okay to be her shield!!”

Each time he shouted a word, the boy’s power grew.

He wasn’t directing it only toward Accelerator, either.

It was like his words were dispelling the hesitation that existed within himself, as well.

“I really don’t know why you want to protect her or how you’ve hurt others until now. But if you wanted to protect that girl, then be proud of it and protect her!! Be proud of how you want to save her, right here and right now!! It’s your life—you decide!! If you want to personally keep her safe, then do it, and if you want to abandon her, then I’ll take everything off your hands. But what the hell is it that you want to do?! Are you okay with that? You’d rather praise someone you barely know and give them what’s most important to you? Can you really be satisfied with all that?!”

An explosion went off.

Chaotically, the black wings swung.

Earth and snow were blown high into the air. But the Level Zero boy didn’t go down. Against an enormous attack that would have buried him altogether, he had twisted himself into a weak spot where he would barely miss a fatal blow, then charged in, ever onward.

A shuddering chill ran through Accelerator’s spine.

Until now, he’d thought the scariest part of this Level Zero was his constantly adapting tactics against powerful espers. He outwitted them in ways they hadn’t realized were possible, ran in head-on, and beat their little blind spots with his strong fist. He’d thought that was the scariest thing about him.

But he was wrong.

The scariest thing about him wasn’t anything that complicated.

It was the desire to never give up. Staying in the fight, no matter what happened, always hurtling straight toward the enemy, no matter what—that, Academy City’s strongest Level Five finally realized, was the scariest thing he’d ever seen.

And as proof:

That attack…

Accelerator audibly gulped.

Relatively, it was really weak, but a human body shouldn’t ever be able to endure something with that much force!!

That didn’t matter.

It wasn’t mundane logic that lay at the core of his fear.

The most important thing—the most fearsome enemy—was close to him now.

Come to think of it, Accelerator recalled suddenly.

When they’d clashed like this at the switchyard, during the Sisters-consuming experiment, didn’t it strike him then, too? That the scariest thing about the boy was how he’d always get up on his own two legs when he shouldn’t have been able to stand, never giving up?

“You be the one to choose…”

The Level Zero boy, just like the switchyard covered with too much blood to do anything about, stepped right up to Academy City’s strongest Level Five.

“Will you keep protecting her yourself, give everything to someone else and run away, or ask for my help?!”

That fist.

Clenched more strongly than it ever had been.

“I don’t care if it’s arrogant or what—you choose something that you’re proud of!!”

A thunderous roar split the air.

It was the sound of the Level Zero’s fist striking Accelerator directly in the face.

The power of those black wings, acquired after pushing forward on the path of “evil” and after several coincidences, would not work against him.

They would not.

Because, in the first place, were there really ever any shackles forcing Accelerator to walk the path of evil?

Something he had to defend, no matter what happened…

Last Order’s smile—that wasn’t something that had anything to do with their relative positions, was it? If he wanted to truly protect her, then didn’t he have to jump over the fences of mundane good and evil?

Maybe this was what it meant for someone to try so desperately to live while following in someone’s footsteps. Not because they were good or evil. He’d never thought about any of that from the start—so maybe that was why Accelerator, a “simple evil,” couldn’t ever catch up to him, no matter what.

In that case.

As Accelerator fell backward, he had a certain thought.

And he felt an illusion lurking within him shatter.

And:

The sorcerer Lesser, who had been traveling with Touma Kamijou, had been watching the battle as well.

From a magic perspective, the mysterious assailant’s black wings held a terrible significance. But the scariest thing of all was still Touma Kamijou, who had brought even those wings into submission.

Just now…

Lesser internally reviewed once again what she’d just witnessed.

…That boy. The black wings had split over a hundred times, and he just…grabbed one and twisted it…?

The boy’s right hand seemed to have the power to cancel out any supernatural or paranormal abilities. But it had conditions and limits. When it came to incredibly immense amounts of power, he wouldn’t be able to cancel it all out; there also seemed to be cases where it wouldn’t do much more than simply block it. In fact, it had taken him some time to fully cancel out the special large sword Fiamma had used.

Logically, a situation where he couldn’t cancel something out should have been a disadvantage for him.

However, just now, that boy had used that disadvantage as an advantage, purposely grabbing one of the black wings that he couldn’t nullify. And then, by twisting it, he had ruined his attacker’s balance, creating a safe zone within the net of a hundred wings unleashed equally, which left him just barely enough space.

Elimination and interference.

A unique power he could use differently by aligning it with his opponent’s strengths.

Did that mean this cruel war had only amplified the boy’s power?

However.

…Could he have really overcome the situation with only that…?

Even if he had “grabbed” that immense force with his right hand, she still didn’t think that would be enough for him to pull through. Even if Lesser had possessed the same power, it would have been unthinkable for her to escape that situation in one piece.

In that case.

What on earth had happened?

Was there really no logic to it?

Or…

6

Accelerator’s vision flickered.

In his now-sideways field of vision was Last Order. She was still buried in the cold snow. Belatedly wanting to scowl at that fact now, Accelerator discovered someone squatting down right next to her.

That might have been enough for the Accelerator back when he’d entered Russia to be the trigger for murder.

But right now, he could no longer move.

The one bending beside Last Order was a spiky-haired boy. He’d been peering into the unconscious little girl’s face, but eventually, he directed his right hand toward her forehead. The gesture was like checking the temperature of someone with a fever.

With only that, something happened.

A high-pitched noise, like a hard object breaking, rang out across the white Russian lands.

Accelerator couldn’t comprehend what it meant.

His consciousness once again began to slip away.

When he next woke, he was in a vehicle.

It wasn’t a common passenger car. It had no windows, much less furnishings for people to ride in it, so it may well have been the bed of a truck or something. The rough metal walls and floor aroused a sense of caution; he wondered if the Academy City shadow group had retrieved him.

A moment later, though, he figured it out: That spiky-haired boy had been in a motorcade made of several vehicles. Maybe the vehicle he, Accelerator, had been put into was one of them.

There were no vibrations, so the vehicle must have been stationary. Perhaps it had reached its destination?

But curiously, Last Order was lying next to him.

The earlier sweat dripping down her entire body was, for some reason, nowhere to be found. Right before he’d lost consciousness, the spiky-haired boy had touched her. Had his right hand applied some sort of effect?

However, no matter what kind of effect it was, Accelerator figured it was temporary.

His vector-transformation ability could accurately gauge even the agitation in a person’s brain waves. When he used that sort of power to check Last Order’s physical condition, he learned that the fundamental issue was unsolved.

She was stable for now, but she’d eventually relapse. Still, the fact of the matter was that the time he had to resolve the situation was now extended.

Accelerator, unsure of how he should interpret the situation, suddenly felt the rough texture of the parchment he’d put in his pocket. At about the same time, he noticed that someone had placed a small note right next to Last Order.

Given the timing, it was highly probable it was from that spiky-haired boy.

He picked the paper scrap up and unfolded it, and on it was written:

Index Librorum Prohibitorum.

The index of prohibited books.

Aiwass, who had defeated Accelerator just before leaving Academy City, had spouted something about remembering the word index.

Maybe it was connected.

Maybe the key to saving Last Order had been given to him in the form of a note.

And then, the truck’s tailgate was thrown open from the outside.

Light poured in, revealing a tall man with blond hair and blue eyes. He addressed Accelerator and Last Order, the only two passengers inside.

“We invite you to the Elizalina Alliance of Independent Nations. I don’t know how much we’ll be able to do for you, but why don’t we think of ways to heal that girl together?”

Accelerator didn’t give a verbal response. He just hung his head low in front of Last Order, still gripping the note in both hands.

Almost like a white angel offering a prayer or something.

And thus, in the faraway city of science, a being who exceeded the extent of humanity was smiling.

Aiwass.

A regular person might have broken out into a greasy sweat at the sight of that expression. That was the sort of nuance this smile had to it. As he gave that smile, which nobody else would understand the actual meaning behind, he simply spoke.

“As I thought…His right hand is interesting.”

It was unknown whether Aiwass deciding something was interesting truly benefited people who wished to live proper lives.

And Aiwass itself didn’t possess the thought patterns to care about stunted human lifetimes.

This being only took action in accordance with its own interests.

“Perhaps I should have met with that boy as well before he left the City.”

7

They’d lost the conifer woodland they’d used as cover, but one attack helicopter was still left.

They couldn’t fool the attacks from the skies any longer. It was one-on-one, face-to-face. If they didn’t shoot it down at this chance, the privateers’ attack would slaughter all the people from the settlement running around trying to escape.

The immobile Rikou Takitsubo was included in that number. Hamazura and the others had to win, no matter what.

And yet.

“Ooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!”

Someone gave a shout inside the cramped anti-air cannon. Hamazura and Digurv, who hadn’t actually touched the trigger, were uplifted as well.

The attack helicopter approached.

A straight line of gunfire ran along the ground.

The attack helicopter, now committed to the attack, was incredibly fast. They wouldn’t hit much if they took aim with the machine guns. They’d gotten a missile lock on it, but firing it now probably wouldn’t do them any good. Normally, surface-to-air missiles were for shooting fleeing aircraft in the back. The chances of a direct hit on a flying object moving so fast right at them were slim. The ambush they’d pulled off using the conifers as cover had worked because their opponents never thought there would be a counterattack and were slow to take evasive action. That would be useless now that they were fully alert.

Grickin had said it would be a Wild West shoot-out. Their bullets would cross, and whoever pierced the other first would win.

Hamazura thought he was right, too.

However, the attack helicopter above had a staggering advantage over them.

Damn it…!!

Hamazura frantically worked the caterpillar treads, twisting the chassis’s movement to get out of the approaching line of gunfire. But he wouldn’t make it. The attack helicopter made a slight adjustment to its trajectory and approached, aiming to shoot through the anti-air tank.

It was over.

He unwittingly shouted Takitsubo’s name—and then a sound that took his heart in an iron grip tore into his ears. It was the sound of thick metal plating being pierced.

He blanked out.

Completely unmetaphorically, he stopped breathing.

However—he didn’t die.

In fact, the piercing, eardrum-hammering noise hadn’t been the anti-air tank getting blown up at all.

The ghastly noise had come from the attack helicopter soaring in the sky.

The sound had been a giant sword, almost three and a half meters long, skewering it from the side.

“…Huh?”

The word on its side, Ascalon, was practically burned into his eyes.

Hamazura’s dumb-sounding grunt had come out at the completely nonsensical sight. Despite his own life being saved, part of him didn’t even try to acknowledge the phenomenon.

In the meantime, an even more absurd reality unfolded before his eyes.

Someone had jumped onto the attack helicopter, which was flying at over twenty meters in the air. Yes—someone had leaped up from the white ground. It was a tall man dressed in clothing that was mainly blue. Grabbing the grip of the sword he’d stabbed into the side of the helicopter, he whipped it around.

The king of the skies was tossed away with just that, like a toy hammer.

The tall man let gravity lower him, and he landed right in the middle of the snowfield. As he did, he slammed the sword into the ground. The attack helicopter exploded savagely, spraying orange flames all over the place.

“…To save others from meaningless atrocities, to quell the tears that have no need to flow, you stole the enemy’s weapon and fought with all your might. You are a brilliant sight to behold.”

A low male voice echoed out from the flames. He spoke in fluent English, on a level that allowed even Hamazura to manage to understand certain words.

A moment later, the flames burst out from within.

Around the man, possibly created when the snow melted, floated a mass of water. It moved in an unnatural way, like juice spilled in a space without gravity.

“I know not what transpired here, but would you allow me, Acqua of the Back, to offer what assistance I may?”

Several feelings intersected, and the protagonists’ chance encounters gave way to even greater stories.

This was when their counterattack began.

As long as they continued to run through the giant, intensifying war without losing sight of their goals, this world, which had always created smiles for people, would never break so easily.