CHAPTER 7

Angel of Slaughter in the Skies
MISHA_the_Angel_“GABRIEL.”

1

The colossal tremors also struck the field hospital in the Elizalina Alliance of Independent Nations.

At the time, from a short distance away, Shiage Hamazura was watching the “healing” Elizalina was performing on Rikou Takitsubo.

Takitsubo was lying on a makeshift stretcher, hooked up to a clear oxygen mask. Rather than an oxygen tank, the other end of the tube was connected to something that looked like several dried plants ground into incense. They would apparently remove the Crystals that had accumulated in Takitsubo’s body, according to Elizalina, but…

That was when the massive shaking occurred, and Takitsubo’s body fell from the stretcher onto the floor.

“Oh, shit! What is this?! Takitsubo!!” cried Hamazura before trying to run over to her, but Elizalina stopped him with a hand.

With morbidly slender fingers, she removed Takitsubo’s mask and said, “She’s fine. And the treatment is finished, too. The toxins have been removed from her body.”

“…”

She said it so easily it didn’t feel real to Hamazura.

The Crystals problem standing in their way had been so massive.

And now…?

It was, so simply, gone?

Elizalina’s additional explanation helped to ease his unnerved state: “Still, this only removed the unassimilated toxins. It didn’t cure entire already-affected sections. You’ll need to search for a different approach to cure the drug’s lingering aftereffects,” she said, putting out the tiny kindling smoldering in the incense. “…Raising one’s abilities through forceful methods will only worsen the feedback. I have never exactly appreciated this so-called scientific efficiency.”

Then the door flew open with a bang!!

Accelerator appeared.

“You— Did you see outside?! The hell’s going on, damn it?!”

“It must be Fiamma. To think he would shake the four planes…”

Elizalina frowned, then disappeared out the doorway Accelerator was standing in. Though the building they were in was a field hospital, it was originally an old fortress. It didn’t have any windows, so they couldn’t tell what it was like outside.

Hamazura was curious, too, but right now, Takitsubo mattered more.

She’d fallen on the floor, so he went to pick her up to return her to the stretcher. But then he noticed something strange. When he lifted her, she didn’t feel like a bag packed with mud like she had before. She was lighter. She was actually paying attention, attempting to shift her body weight.

Her consciousness had returned, properly reaching all her extremities.

More than anything else, that was a massive sign of improvement for Hamazura.

“Hamazura…?”

“You’ll be okay,” he reassured her, before losing all his energy in relief.

He had somehow ended up being held in Takitsubo’s small hands instead of the other way around, so Hamazura decided he would at least keep his mouth working. “I’ll explain everything to you later. Just let me say this now—you’re going to be okay. You’re not fully cured, and we’ll probably need Academy City to completely deal with the aftereffect stuff. But for now, the Crystals won’t make your condition any worse than this. Our lives aren’t even in danger anymore. So you’ll be okay…And now it’s our turn to go on the attack.”

He felt Takitsubo’s body’s warmth for the first time—the physical warmth any normal girl would have.

She didn’t feel unnaturally warm, like she would if she was running a fever.

After briefly checking her over, he eventually left Takitsubo’s embrace, little by little.

She could stand on her own two feet now.

As she sat down on the stretcher, Hamazura spoke to her again in slow tones. “I’ll go call a nurse. Do you need water? If you’re hungry, I can have them get some fruit, too.”

“Hamazura. What do we do now?”

“If we’re serious about going toe to toe with Academy City, we can’t stay here forever. We threw off their pursuit by going to groud in the Alliance, just like we planned. Next is going back into Russia and searching for a way to negotiate with them.”

After saying all that, he paused.

Looking into Takitsubo’s eyes, he said, “But I’m not saying we have to do it together. You’re still recovering. You can wait here—”

“Hamazura,” interrupted Takitsubo, “which would wake you up: a kiss or a slap?”

“When you put it like that, it only makes me want to leave you here more.” Hamazura roughly ran a hand through her hair and looked toward the door. “I’ll find us some transportation. I’d feel bad stealing a car from the folks who saved us, but—”

Then.

It happened.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw scattered documents. This was a temporary field hospital, but originally it was an Alliance military facility that had been furnished with medical equipment. Because the Alliance had hastily converted it into a medical facility, military-related devices and documents would probably still be around.

The documents that had caught his attention turned out to be a bundle of faxes.

Hamazura couldn’t read Russian, but he recognized the attached photograph.

It was the settlement where Digurv and the others were from.

“…Regarding the Alliance of Independent Nations’ admission applicants and their problems.”

Takitsubo, peering at it from behind Hamazura, read the Russian written on the report to him. Hamazura frowned and said, “You mean…Digurv’s settlement wanted to be part of the Alliance?”

To begin with, the settlement was near the border with the Elizalina Alliance of Independent Nations—and an area that was being requisitioned by the Russian military. They’d scattered land mines almost as harassment, and there was also the privateer raid to think about. The desire to join the Alliance as a member to escape Russian oppression wasn’t that strange.

But as anyone could tell from its current state, the people of this country hadn’t accepted Digurv’s settlement into the fold, and they were suffering right outside the border.

What did the report mean when it said problems?

“It doesn’t look like it’s a problem with the settlement or the people living there.”

“What does that mean?”

“It says there’s a Cold War nuclear missile silo near the settlement. Because of its load out, it was separated from normal military bases and hidden in the forest.”

Hamazura was dumbstruck at Takitsubo’s words.

She flipped through the report. “The silo itself has been left there for decades. The actual missiles have been removed, too. It’s nothing but ruins now. But if the Alliance tried to annex the settlement and the surrounding land, they’re worried others would assume they were trying to acquire Russian nuclear launch facility know-how. It says they can’t aid the settlement, no matter how much they ask.”

“That’s bullshit…,” spat Hamazura softly.

That nuclear launch silo didn’t belong to Digurv and the others. Russia made the facility without asking them—that was why the settlers had lost their freedom, and why they were currently under the threat of land mines and privateers. It was good that an Academy City presence had arrived, but if they’d come any later, all the settlers might have been killed.

“The Kremlin Report…?”

But the injustice didn’t stop there.

Takitsubo picked up another report and said, “…Hamazura, this is bad.”

“What is it? A report? That diagram looks like the area’s climate data.”

“These numbers are measurements for wind direction, temperature, and humidity. I think the data’s for predicting how bacteria will proliferate, but…”

“…Bacteria?”

Hamazura’s shoulders stiffened at the ominous word.

Still looking at the stack of faxes—the Kremlin Report—Takitsubo said, “This was sent by the Russian military. They faxed the original Kremlin Report and additional documents here all at once. It seems like they want to make a show of giving Alliance officials a warning in order to justify the regular military actions happening inside their borders. This was actually only sent a few hours ago, and even if they showed the Alliance this, they’d never be able to start a large-scale evacuation. I think this is a threat against the Alliance. They’re saying You’re next.”

“What do you mean bacteria? How is that connected to Digurv and the others?!”

“It looks like a procedure for protecting nuclear launch facilities called the Kremlin Report was officially announced by the Russian military. The plan involves deploying bacteriological weapons to retake captured launch facilities or to protect sites on the verge of being captured. They’re…”

“They’re going to use the nuclear launch silo near their settlement?! It’s their own country! Do the people in the Russian army plan on deploying the bacteria indiscriminately?!”

Hamazura felt dizzy.

But considering the relative locations of the nuclear launch silo and the Academy City force stationed at Digurv’s settlement to protect it, he couldn’t deny the possibility that they’d be a target for this so-called Kremlin Report procedure.

“Doesn’t it say nobody’s used the silo for decades? And they removed all the missiles, too, right?”

“The site’s launch function itself still works. And they can bring in missiles from outside. Russia has only recently managed to deploy prototype missile-defense networks. They have them concentrated on the borders—they didn’t consider setting up defenses for anything firing at them from a silo within the country’s interior.”

“…You mean that if you fired a missile from that silo, you could get it to land anywhere you wanted?”

“The Russian generals were the ones who developed this—they would know the fear of ballistic missiles flying overhead better than anyone. I think they’d do anything to stop that from happening.”

“Damn it…”

At this rate, the Russians would chalk it up as something necessary to defend Russian soil and deploy deadly pathogens in the vicinity of the nuclear launch silo. If that happened, Digurv’s settlement would get caught up in it, too. The germ was clearly bad enough to be labeled a weapon. He didn’t even want to think of the death rate it was capable of achieving.

“When do they plan on deploying it?”

“I can’t tell. It seems like there’s not much chance the bacteriological weapon will reach the Alliance because of the overriding wind direction, but if it really gets dangerous, I think that Elizalina person will issue an evacuation advisory to the people.”

Hamazura and Takitsubo didn’t know when the weapon would be used.

For all they knew, the Russian military might have been carrying out the operation even as they spoke. Hamazura couldn’t deny the possibility that if he and Takitsubo attempted to stop it, they might arrive just in time to get caught in the attack, too.

However.

“Takitsubo. Will you wait here for me?”

“Are we going to use the bacteria-wall military technology in the Kremlin report as a bargaining chip to negotiate with Academy City? Military-grade bioweapons by itself won’t be special for Academy City—”

“Not that,” denied Hamazura shortly. “I can’t leave Digurv and the others there. I know all we’d be doing is taking a huge risk, but I don’t want to abandon them. This is all wrong, isn’t it?! It’s not like I’ve lived a decent life before this; I’ve hurt a lot of people, but this is so much worse than that. Wanting to stop this from happening isn’t crazy. The fact that it could happen in the first place is what’s really crazy!! How is everyone doing all this shit with a straight face?!”

“…”

Rikou Takitsubo stared into Hamazura’s eyes for a moment.

Eventually, she nodded, too.

“Okay. I’m going with you.”

“Takitsubo?”

“I couldn’t talk much while we were in the settlement, but I remember everything those people did for me. I want to fight for their sake, too.”

“I hope you don’t regret this.”

“You too.”

They exchanged nods, then headed for the hospital exit together.

He knew it wasn’t the time to be doing something like this. They hadn’t found any leverage they could use to negotiate with Academy City yet, and simply getting involved in the now full-fledged war playing out in Russia, a battle that had nothing to do with them, might cost them their lives. Taking an unnecessary detour amid all that would only shorten their life spans.

Shiage Hamazura went over all those factors in his mind.

Then, a single thought came out on top:

But we owe them.

2

He heard a cry.

It wasn’t human.

This roar was more alien, slipping effortlessly into human minds, shaking their emotions without choice. He wanted to reject it even more than the sound of nails on a blackboard, and yet, the very thought of rejecting it summoned an incredible sense of guilt—an incomprehensible, unacceptable, unignorable cry. Breaking the limits of human hearing, the voice reverberated across the night battlefield that looked like it had a coat of India ink.

An angel.

Gabriel—the POWER OF GOD.

Misha Kreutzev.

“St…stop…”

Kamijou’s mouth moved on its own.

Something stood out on the expansive battlefield like a lone light in a field of shadow. It was a pale-blue glow. Its silhouette, too, unnaturally still at an altitude of over three thousand meters, was almost humanlike.

Wings had sprouted from the silhouette’s back.

Wings of ice, like crystals.

Their lengths were uneven. Some were only a few dozen centimeters, while others were over a hundred meters. The irregular wings each moved independently of the others, cracking into one another, flinging eerie sparks into the night. Kamijou knew that all of those wings packed enough destructive force to cleave mountains in half with a simple touch.

They undulated in a tight pack, just a tiny bit of power gathered inside them.

That, by itself, was enough.

“Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!”

Kamijou’s human voice meant nothing when pitched against the flapping of such a massive set of wings.

A storm of destruction and slashing broke out. Academy City’s fighters and supersonic bombers, designed with the most cutting-edge technology available, were cut into round slices. Several of the icy wings deliberately broke apart, transforming into hundreds, thousands of fragmented blades, raining down over the armored units deployed on the surface. An immense shock wave burst forth, and faint shudders even made it up to the Star of Bethlehem, still flying through the skies.

Kamijou peered down through a shattered window, but the dense cloud cover prevented him from seeing anything. There were gaps here and there, but that wasn’t enough for him to confirm the fate of those below. Enormous clouds of snow had whipped up from the ground as well, forming a dense curtain.

“Damn it…”

Only one spot directly under the archangel visible in the distance, dozens of meters in radius, had opened up in the thick clouds. When it had shot all those shards down toward the ground, it had probably blown the clouds all over, creating localized weather disturbances.

Pilots he didn’t know ejected from their sliced-up fighter jets, parachutes deploying moments later.

The archangel ignored them. It didn’t aim its wings of ice at them, either.

But that was not out of benevolence or compassion. Gabriel flapped its ice wings at a different bomber, and the mere gusts its steely towerlike wings produced rattled the parachutes enough to cause them to fail.

The crews that bailed out might have been okay if they had spare parachutes, but otherwise, they were on a one-way road to death.

The word war wasn’t enough to encompass this.

Divine punishment.

Kamijou gulped as the words seared themselves into his mind.

…It’s not just the Star of Bethlehem. Fiamma, that bastard—did he kidnap Sasha so he could use that crazy archangel as a weapon?!

“Shit!!”

This wasn’t the time to be dumbfounded. Kamijou burst out of the stone room for now, deciding to run across the Star of Bethlehem. The angel seemed to be under Fiamma’s command. But if he could have used it at any time, he would’ve brought it out earlier.

Maybe it had to do with the Star of Bethlehem’s rising.

If there was some sort of key to operating the archangel, then Kamijou might be able to stop Gabriel either by destroying the key or by taking down Fiamma himself, likely its user.

Of course, Kamijou didn’t know much about the sorcery side.

However.

That doesn’t matter.

As he ran, he clenched his teeth against the sounds of explosions going off in the distance.

In that case, I’ll break anything I can find that seems like it might stop that angel!!

After passing through several rooms, the skies opened up.

He had reached a stone bridge with a wide path, but no railings on the sides. The gusts and explosive shock waves threatened to rock him from the side. The dark sky was murky like a midnight sea, imparting a bottomless sense of anxiety.

He didn’t have time to stop for every little thing.

Even Academy City’s elite units couldn’t stand up to a monster like that. At this rate, they’d be conveniently used as targets for demonstration purposes. The only one with a chance of stopping that angel, even if it was indirectly, was Kamijou.

He dashed across the lengthy bridge, covering about a hundred meters in one sprint.

At what could be called the opposite shore, he opened the door to another room.

An intricate mechanism that resembled a pipe organ occupied the space here. It could have been magical in nature—or a mere decoration assembled like a puzzle. Even if it did have supernatural properties, it might not have anything to do with the angel.

Either way, checking was simple.

Kamijou only had to touch it with his right hand and see if it broke.

Decision made, he stepped deeper in the room—

“…?!”

And then caught his breath.

Right next to him. A person, hidden in some pews lined up in the room like a chapel, had suddenly tackled him from the side.

They both slammed into the floor.

The blow took Kamijou’s breath away, and at first, he reflexively tried to gasp for air, but he forced the impulse down and tried to roll across the floor without breathing. If they were both down, whoever could get on top would be the winner. His assailant appeared to think the same thing; they tried to roll away as well to regain a superior position.

But the assailant banged into a pew.

Now that they had stopped, Kamijou climbed atop of the assailant.

Anyone he found here must have been an elite Roman or Russian sorcerer.

Without thinking, he got ready to bring his fist down—

“Huh…?”

—but then stopped dead.

He recognized that face.

Long, wavy blond hair hiding her eyes. Black belts that looked like physical restraints and red clothing made of a semitransparent material that looked like undergarments. She was younger than Kamijou. Hammers, saws, and a variety of other carpentry tools that had been converted into human torture implements lined the belt at her waist.

Strictly speaking, he recognized her but was not acquainted with her.

After all, the first time he’d seen her, she’d already been substituted.

He almost mixed up the names for a moment, but he managed to murmur the right one.

“Sasha Kreutzev…?”

3

Elizalina hurried through the dreary field hospital.

The fort had been used as a military facility in ages past, explaining why it only had so many windows. That said, she had already felt a disturbance before she’d peered out of one of those small portals. Still, she’d unquestionably become a witness after seeing what was happening outside, bringing unconscious words to her lips.

“This is terrible…”

Night had fallen.

A giant fortress had risen into the starless gloom, a citadel that looked like a scraped-together mess of monasteries and religious houses sourced from all over the world.

And.

Like a moon illuminating the aberrant night, something pale blue had glided through the darkness.

A human shape endowed with giant wings.

An angel.

Partially controlling an angel as telesma was one thing, but actually seeing the genuine article with the naked eye was normally unthinkable. She didn’t know what Fiamma, the mastermind, was thinking, but this was an even bigger disaster than a planetoid smashing into the earth. It seemed like something that would invite an ice age upon the entire planet just to fell its enemies.

“…”

Leaning against the wall, Accelerator seemed to be watching Elizalina closely. That being said, he, too, was only here because he had been drawn to one of the few windows. Most of his thoughts were not focused on Elizalina’s back but on what was happening outside.

The mysterious being, Aiwass, had told him to go to Russia.

It seemed the parchment he’d found was supposed to have been delivered to that fortress, the Russian frontline base near the national border that had risen into the air.

Then, from that fortress appeared something like that angel, and even now, it appeared to be launching an attack against Academy City’s cream of the crop.

Yes.

An angel.

…Looks like we hit the bull’s-eye. The core of the mystery, the centerpiece that got the kid and me involved in all this.

During his battle with Amata Kihara and the September 30 incident, Accelerator had witnessed a wild dance of giant wings of light. Its appearance seemed to have been related to Last Order. And using the dance of those giant wings made of light as a foundation, Aiwass had appeared.

If he was to assume that the “angel” was the same kind as the one now devastating the Russian night sky…If he was to assume that the fortress had a way of causing that angel to appear and to control it…

Then I might be able to use that technology to suppress the angel’s movements or drive it away. I don’t care if it’s really an angel or what—this is just what the brat needed to escape her suffering!!

Elizalina, who had been watching out the window just then, suddenly turned around.

“Run away.”

“What?”

“Quickly!! If you don’t throw them off the trail, they’ll come!!”

“Who?! Who the hell are you talking about?! And why are they after me?!”

They shouted at each other, but the first one to cool her head was Elizalina. Struggling to maintain a calm voice, she said, “…The one who instigated this war is most likely in that castle. If he can freely manipulate angels, it will be hopeless even for Academy City. If we assume their leaders properly understand the threat it poses, we’ll need to consider the possibility Academy City will resort to using nuclear weapons. But…”

“But what?”

“That castle isn’t complete yet.” Elizalina spared another glance out the window. “The parchment you carry proves that. If those documents are so important that the mastermind Fiamma would use the army to bring them to him—if he doesn’t currently have the parchment, it shows that not all the pieces have been assembled yet.”

Accelerator focused his mind on the inside of his pocket where he was keeping the mysterious bundle of parchment.

“…They did go through a lot of trouble trying to deliver these in secret.”

“Whatever purpose Fiamma needs to use them for, if they’re necessary for his grand scheme, they will pour all their military forces into getting that last piece back…even if it means using the angel,” said Elizalina slowly. “Fiamma has near complete control of Index’s 103,000 volumes right now. Judging from prior examples, however, it seems possible that information regarding profoundly complex topics like angels and God’s Right Seat are not recorded in those books. Perhaps that parchment’s purpose is to fill those gaps in knowledge. By combining them with the 103,000 grimoires, they become a bridge to the knowledge of how to exert ultimate power and control.”

“Index…?”

A slight but dangerous light went through Accelerator’s eyes.

Aiwass had told him to remember the term index of prohibited books.

The Level Zero who had defeated Academy City’s strongest Level Five had left him with the words Index Librorum Prohibitorum.

Here, once again, things connected—

Connected to the underworld.

And to the unknown set of rules as well, which even Accelerator didn’t have a full view of, but one that definitely seemed to relate to Accelerator’s and Last Order’s roots.

…That piece of shit Level Zero. Exactly how many steps ahead of me is he anyway…?

Not noticing what Accelerator was thinking, Elizalina continued. “All this means you’re in danger. Fiamma’s followers must have reports of what the person who stole that set of parchment looks like, and unfortunately, spies had infiltrated my ranks as well. Even if you dispose of the parchment this instant, they might still capture you to find where it went.”

“Like hell I’m disposing of it…,” muttered Accelerator. “It could be the last key to releasing that kid from this bullshit fairy tale about angels or whatever. Even less reason for me to get rid of it.”

“Then you must hurry. I’ll be honest with you—if Fiamma or the Russian military gets serious, the Alliance alone can’t protect you. We don’t plan on going to our graves yet, so we will need to hide in order to mount an effective counterattack.”

As though triggered by Elizalina’s words, Accelerator looked over in another direction.

Misaka Worst was the one who responded.

“Sure thing. Misaka’ll go pick up Last Order.”

She waved a hand toward him. As she headed for the hospital room, she casually continued, “Still, it’d be nice to have a weapon. Even an older gun. But the rifles here have a lotta recoil, and for a shooter with one arm broken, it’d probably just be luggage, huh? Still, with only a pistol, the lack of firepower is a bit concerning— What to do, what to do? It might be because AKs come off as real strong, but does this place have any good submachine guns?”

“?” Elizalina frowned.

Ignoring her, Misaka Worst opened the door to the hospital room Last Order was in a short distance away and said, “After all, he’s a big enough sucker to save Misaka. He obviously wants to show off the parchment to Russia, escape, and draw the soldiers as far away from the Alliance as possible. Eee-hee-hee.”

By the time a surprised Elizalina tried to ask for details, Misaka Worst had already gone into the medical room. Instead, the Alliance leader turned back toward Accelerator.

He was busy grating his teeth and muttering to himself. “…That bitch. That’s some personality she’s got. She only ever thinks of making trouble for me.”

“What…? What does she mean? If what she says is true—that’s far too reckless of you!!” shouted Elizalina.

Waving a hand as if to drive her away, Accelerator muttered the next thing in a short voice, like he really didn’t want to.

“…Shit, it’s just a little something extra, got it?”

4

A night sky, completely incongruous with the true time of day. The Star of Bethlehem, rising into the air. And an incomplete archangel, dragged from the heavens through artificial means.

William Orwell, a mercenary once called Acqua of the Back, quietly gazed upon this world in which everything was utterly twisted. After destroying the privateers’ garrison base, he’d gotten partway across the snowfield toward Fiamma’s fortress, but it seemed he’d been too late.

Fiamma of the Right had come this far.

Using telesma—angelic power—for personal gain was no unusual thing in modern western sorcery. But even that failed to explain the scale of this. The situation thus far had been nonsensical. Thinking about it as a technological problem, and whether one could actually do it, was nonsensical itself—but more than that, drawing out and exploiting enough power to annihilate all human life on the planet this easily was astounding.

Nevertheless.

An archangel was an archangel. While this one had announced the Son of God’s inception and garnered reverence as an entity deeply involved in the birth of Crossism, it was also feared for having executed heavenly punishment upon a perverse city. It was not something even a saint, even God’s Right Seat, could defeat in a head-on clash. In fact, even if all the might of humanity were arrayed on one side, it was dubious whether it could fell this archangel.

To put it briefly, that angel was strong enough to end World War III by itself.

But not through victory or defeat. The ending it offered would come after every person of every faction was slaughtered, plunging the world into a state wherein it could no longer continue the war.

I see. I can understand why Fiamma was so puffed up with pride now, admitted William Orwell honestly.

But even after the admission, his resolve would never waver.

But have you forgotten, Fiamma, what I presided over as a member of God’s Right Seat?

5

Vatican City.

Cardinal Peter Iogdis moved from the center of the church toward a window. He couldn’t see the situation in Russia from here. Still, even if the organization’s sorcery-based monitoring was silent, reports would continue to come from his subordinates. The old man, however, ran up to the window in spite of himself. He had to—the force he’d just felt was too intense.

An efflux of divine power.

An archangel.

Gabriel.

“Ohhh…”

A noise of admiration escaped the cardinal’s throat. The priests and bishops nearby, as well; some slowly made the sign of the cross, while others recited verses from the New Testament. Their great Father watched over and protected them always, but opportunities to directly sense beings this powerful were rare. The pious would find no shame in shedding tears at the event.

However.

Peter Iogdis had an entirely different feeling than the rest.

He didn’t know any details about the “mastermind’s” plan. They weren’t collaborating, either. But he knew roughly what this Fiamma of the Right person had done. And it didn’t matter what happened after this as long as it worked to Peter Iogdis’s benefit.

In other words.

If he could use this opportunity to seize the papal throne.

He considered secretly communicating with a bishop of the Russian Church— Was it because their circumstances had many commonalities?

…I was somewhat impatient while chasing the activity records of Academy City forces in Russia, but— Why, this means our victory is assured! The papal conclave is about to convene as well, just as I suspected. I can become the one who leads this world as the next pope!!

He’d heard that signs of riots were visible all over Italy, but the cardinal didn’t care about that. The sudden change in scenery from day to night would probably deepen the chaos already going on. Just as the existence of Halley’s Comet had once caused societal unrest. But that wasn’t relevant. The Roman Orthodox Church had dispatched agents into the the general populace to make sure their riots stayed within acceptable levels, and even if that didn’t grant them complete control, there were other, more important things to focus on. First came strengthening his own position. Peter Iogdis would deploy Roman Orthodox forces to pacify the people after that. Then there wouldn’t be any problems. He’d keep damages at a tolerable level, and by the time they’d finished dealing with the debris and the dead bodies, Peter Iogdis would have ascended to the position closest to the Lord in this world.

However.

“Cardinal Peter Iogdis!!”

All of a sudden, an armed priest—someone unfit for this place—burst inside.

“It’s an emergency!! They’re temporarily suspending the conclave! We will shore up the defenses, so please, retreat deeper inside!!”

“…”

His feathers ruffled. From his spot next to the window, Peter Iogdis lowered his gaze to the ground. The city of Rome wasn’t visible over the thick intervening wall, but he could hear what sounded like a tumult.

It was, in fact, an uproarious riot, and he found himself seething that the filthy rabble should have just stayed inside Rome for their violence. But they seemed to have changed directions and gone toward the Vatican. It appeared that those Roman Orthodox agents he’d placed in the populace hadn’t been enough to suppress them after all.

“The papal conclave will proceed as scheduled.”

“B-but, sir!!”

“Use the Roman Orthodox forces to suppress them. A baptism of blood will silence the unwashed masses. They cannot be allowed to overturn the great things we are performing.”

“We can’t!! That order causes a contradiction with our chain of command!! We have been allowed to strengthen our defenses to prepare for any incidents, but we can’t take offensive action against them!!”

“What?” said Peter Iogdis, his face clouding over.

The priest’s answer was incomprehensible to him. With the Roman pope currently absent, Peter Iogdis and the other cardinals were the church’s highest authorities. And out of the many cardinals, he possessed the greatest authority. That meant that when it came to public strength, the orders of Peter Iogdis were absolute.

But the armed priest wouldn’t obey them.

He explained:

“It’s the Roman pope…”

It sounded like he’d squeezed the words out.

And yet, it also sounded like somewhere inside, he’d been waiting for this.

“Our Roman pope has calmed the riotous masses with a mere few words!! He is now entering the country! We don’t have any way to stop his advance!!”

The Roman pope.

What he had done in the streets hadn’t been anything special. He simply spoke to everyone, approaching them, listening to what they had to say, and taking the time to soothe their rattled nerves.

That was all.

Normally, a crowd close to fifty thousand on the verge of a riot might have beaten him to a pulp. And they might have even taken his words and actions as the spark that would ignite a devastating explosion.

In spite of all that, even with their unique group psychology that had become so strangely intense, the kind that treated fighting to be the natural course during war and would assume anyone standing still at such a time was evil—at his words, everyone regained their humanity. The pope hadn’t produced any magical effects to sway their emotions, nor had he read out a speech carefully composed to sway those caught up in mob mentality. The words of this one old man just slowly permeated everyone’s thoughts and spread, causing one person, then another, to lower their guns or blades.

Of course…

It wasn’t as though the world could be fully related to a simple scale of good and evil. Some of those in the crowds were Roman Orthodox agents, who purposely wanted to incite riots. They weren’t aiming for complete anarchy, but they were more wary of the people being quietly absorbed into supporting the Roman pope. Because of that, some tried to use a single gunshot to overturn their disadvantageous situation. By provoking a throng of people that straddled the line between chaos and stability, the agents were hoping to cause an even stronger outburst. In times like these, it was simpler to induce a great panic with an easily understood gunshot than by using strange sorcery. Those from the Roman Orthodox Church had written the book on how to manipulate the enormous group of two billion faithful—they’d assumed a single gunshot would be more than enough.

And yet.

I can’t…

The professional assassin couldn’t reach into his pocket. Nobody could bring themselves to fire on the pope of Rome, who had calmed so many people and who said he would set things right on his own.

Deep inside him was terror.

Leaden pressure had gone to the pit of his stomach, and it had frozen this true assassin’s hands.

This terror, however, was a peculiar fear that assassins, who had killed and killed so many times, had never before tasted.

I can’t allow the small thing this man is creating to end, no matter what…!!

And thus, the pope’s advance began.

Many stood in his way: assassins both easily spotted and well hidden. But the pope of Rome never said a word. He didn’t brace himself. He simply continued forward. That was all it took for everyone to yield and make a path, convincing them to drop their weapons and Soul Arms and even inducing some among them to cry and repent. Before anyone knew it, many were following in the wake of his advance. These weren’t people whose minds were consumed by whirling emotions like passion—it was a simple, quiet procession.

The armed priests who had been defending the main gate at the Vatican City border quietly crossed themselves at the pope’s return.

Some even said aloud that they hoped things would turn for the better.

The old man continued forth.

Each one of his steps represented mankind’s resistance to the great monster known as global warfare.

This was a battle that would test their worth as people—armed not with swords and guns but with reason and compassion.

“…No…”

Upon seeing the old man enter the church’s front entrance, Peter Iogdis shook his head.

His expression resembled that of a child on the verge of tears.

“No!!!!!! I am…the next pope—it’s going to be me!! The decision was already made!! You’re nothing more than a ghost! You have no more place here!! K-kill him. The chaos currently gripping the Roman Orthodox Church is all this monster’s fault!! If I become pope, I promise you all lives many times more prosperous!! So kill hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiim!!”

“…”

“What are you doing?! Warrior—for what purpose did we give you spears?! To pierce the enemy!! And skewer all the foolish masses who obey him!! You must do it!! That is the only way for me to preside over this world!!”

“Do not fear.”

A grave, elderly voice quieted Peter’s apparent temper tantrum for a moment.

“I do not intend to stop you if you wish to hold the papal conclave. If you would demand that someone must bear the responsibility for the chaos in the Roman Orthodox Church, I would even consider heading for the gallows. I am no longer the pope of Rome. I am but a single believer, Matthew Reese, and I come before you today to bring an end to this war.”

“Wh…what…?”

“In the basement of St. Peter’s Cathedral, half destroyed by Fiamma’s hand, was a grand storehouse boasting such vast knowledge that we invited the British-made index of prohibited books to it. I am going to peruse that knowledge. A plan for combating Fiamma’s sanctuary may yet sleep within it.”

Finished, Matthew Reese stepped forward.

Peter Iogdis withdrew like a magnet of the same charge. But he soon hit a wall. As he continued to shake his head, the old man drew closer.

I’ll be killed.

That thought naturally rose to the core of his mind. It only made sense, considering what he’d done until now. Matthew Reese held no weapon or Soul Arm, but that wasn’t comforting in the slightest. Peter Iogdis knew of the man’s skill in sorcery—and even without using it, a single command would be enough for the people, the armed priests, the bishops, and everyone else to lose themselves and rend Peter Iogdis asunder. When all was said and done, he had no true allies.

And yet.

With a pat, Matthew Reese placed a hand on Peter Iogdis’s shoulder. It was a gentle gesture. Then, the man who had given up his papal throne said this to the man who had tried to steal it:

“You’ve done well shepherding two billion followers in such difficult times. Your talent is unquestionably the reason everyone here has survived while I was asleep. As you say, I am an incompetent leader. Alone, I would likely have allowed the damage to grow even further.”

He was smiling.

It was neither an act to deceive nor a distorted grin of sarcasm or derision. Matthew Reese, now no more than another believer, had just blessed Peter Iogdis’s progress from the bottom of his heart.

“Please, call me when the papal conclave commences. I will cast my vote for you. You have borne the brunt of the criticism, performed many decisions of authority, and protected the lives of everyone—you deserve praise for that much, at least. It may not be much, but please, allow me to aid you on the path you walk.”

Saying only that, Matthew Reese turned about.

“Do you understand? We are fighting so you can survive. Promise me you will not die before this war ends.”

Matthew Reese had abandoned his position as pope—and yet, when Peter Iogdis looked at the man’s reassuring back, it seemed to him as though it contained everything he had ever desired.

Unable even to see the one old man off as he went, pressed onward to a new battlefield to fight for what he believed in, Peter Iogdis, whose only labors had been in search of wealth, broke down into tears.

6

“Sasha Kreutzev…?” murmured Touma Kamijou, still straddling her.

His thoughts weren’t coming together.

The archangel called Misha Kreutzev was, even as he spoke, flying in the artificial night sky, trying to crush Academy City’s forces.

But Sasha Kreutzev was right here before his eyes.

The blond-haired girl, slight body tightened with clothing that looked like physical restraints, tilted her head a little and asked, “Question one. Why do you know my name?”

“Where to start…Uh, we actually met one time at the end of August, but strictly speaking, that was Misha Kreutzev, and we’ve never spoken to each other directly, but I heard from Kanzaki and Tsuchimikado that the original body before the substitution belonged to Sasha Kreutzev—”

“…”

Before he could finish, Sasha twisted and turned, throwing Kamijou wide, the boy who was leaning over her. He gave a startled grunt, and she looked at him with suspicious eyes behind her bangs.

“Answer one. I have judged that I will not get a good explanation from you. As an addendum, I estimate the probability that you are an enemy, given that you are on board this Star of Bethlehem, to be extremely high. Are you part of their team, come to apprehend me for fleeing the ritual site?”

Shweeng!! She pulled a saw and an L-shaped pair of pincers from her waist belt.

The blood drained from Kamijou’s face. “Whoa!! You’re like this whether you’re Misha or Sasha?! What the hell is that angel anyway?! Is it really unrelated to you?!”

As Kamijou, in a panic, scrambled to speak, Sasha fell silent for a moment. Like a cautious beast, she inched away a few steps, thinking, …This man still seems suspicious nevertheless, but he also appears to know something about my “condition”…

What tugged at her was the end of August part.

That was right around when Sasha had acquired the strange condition. It allowed her to feel a pressure in her chest whenever someone else’s mana or a Soul Arm was nearby. According to the Russian Catholic analysis team, she showed signs of having had immense power inside her on an archangelic level, but…

She glanced at the torture saw…I can force him to speak now, but I can’t tell whether this man is a simple idiot or if he’s being intentionally dense. Perhaps a shorter route to the correct answer would be to not clearly and straightforwardly ask him.

As Sasha quietly decided on a new course of action, Kamijou asked, “Do you know a man named Fiamma of the Right? He’s supposed to be the guy who kidnapped you from the Elizalina Alliance of Independent Nations and brought you here.”

“…?”

“He’s gotta be doing something.” Kamijou glanced toward the door of the stone-built room. “Otherwise, that monster wouldn’t have shown up. Fiamma called you a medium for the angel or something. I’ll be direct: He used you to summon that angel, didn’t he?”

Angel summoning.

Calling it that might have made it sound ridiculous, but Kamijou knew firsthand how fearsome it was. Both in terms of sorcery, from the Angel Fall incident at the end of August, and in terms of science, from the events surrounding Fuse Kazakiri that took place on September 30.

What Fiamma had done was equally threatening. But at the same time, Kamijou also thought that angels weren’t the kind of thing that could be controlled so easily. There had to be groundwork. The groundwork was for the Angel Fall magic circle for Misha Kreutzev and the AIM dispersion fields for Fuse Kazakiri. Whatever was happening, it was being supported by some large-scale mechanism, and if that was removed, they’d be unable to move, at least, in this world.

He knew what the key was this time.

Sasha Kreutzev.

If a prodigious angel had appeared with her at the origin, then Sasha might have been in contact with some sort of important Soul Arm. It was an assumption that something like that even existed, but that meant Sasha might know what he should destroy to disable the angel.

“Listen. Tell me whatever you might know. First, where in the Star of Bethlehem did Fiamma use his magic to summon the angel—the ritual, I guess you’d call it in this case? Anyway, I want you to show me where the action happened. Also, it would be great to hear about the process, even if you only know a rough outline. I want to know what kind of tools he used at the time, and how.”

Naturally, Kamijou didn’t know sorcery. But his right hand didn’t care whether he understood the underlying principles—his ability could erase and destroy any phenomena or object related to the supernatural. If he busted up every single thing she mentioned, it might lead to destroying Misha.

Sasha still seemed to be suspicious of Kamijou after he suddenly asked all that at once.

But even at this moment, the archangel was flying about in the skies, launching huge attacks at Academy City aircraft and the Russian surface—she could tell by the faint rumbling. They had a common interest, and that connection made Sasha start to murmur.

“…Answer two. When I woke up, the ritual was already over. Maybe that was why I was able to escape. Many Russian sorcerers were around other than the mastermind, so under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have been able to flee all the way here. To be blunt, when they relaxed just for a moment after the hard part was over, I took advantage of it and ran out of the ritual site.”

“That’s fine. Did you see anything in the ritual site before you ran away?”

Would Fiamma allow an opening that easily? And how could you even run from Fiamma, who could travel miles in a single instant? Kamijou was privately dubious, but he didn’t mention it now. Maybe he’d just decided she had nowhere to run, locked up on a fortress high in the skies.

Sasha, for her part, seemed to notice what he was thinking and continued the technical explanation. “Answer three. The ritual site was of the Crossist format. It had an odd construction, intensively using fire in particular out of the four aspects…Normally, excluding extreme usage as a means of attack, ritual sites only gain significance after bringing all four aspects together as one. But that man called Fiamma—his ritual site was far too unified in a single color…”

Kamijou abruptly looked at his right hand. Maybe…

…there was another way.

Fiamma had used Sasha to summon that archangel. This time, instead of it residing inside Sasha like during Angel Fall, the archangel was pure—and exposed to the open air. On the other hand, if he’d used Sasha to summon Misha, it was highly likely the same logic was being applied here. Sasha was still necessary to stabilize the archangel’s existence.

In that case, maybe Sasha and Misha were connected, like with an out-of-body experience. If so, Kamijou could use the Imagine Breaker. By touching Sasha, he might deal direct damage to Misha. After all, angels were apparently big clusters of magical energy.

…While we’re standing around, Misha Kreutzev is wrecking the entire area. Academy City and Russian forces are one thing, but the damage could have even spread to civilian homes already.

Kamijou opened and closed his right hand.

Which means the only thing I can do is test everything I can. Here and now, we’re the only ones who can act!!

“As an addendum, regarding the ritual site’s location…When observing the fortress’s direction of motion, it should be located at the rightmost tip of the Star of Bethlehem. Here, too, he is probably trying to take advantage of the sign of the angel Michael, who symbolizes fire. His methods are thorough, but on the other hand, the angel floating around the battlefield now is Gabriel, which symbolizes water—and on that point, I feel a strong sense of strangeness— Hyawaah?!”

Sasha abruptly straightened up and let out a yelp.

Kamijou’s right hand had reached for her cheek.

Not noticing how she was trembling, he repeatedly pressed his hand to her head, then shoulders, side, stomach, and thigh.

“…Not here. Not here, either—or here or here. Damn it—no change in Misha. Maybe this won’t work. I’ll just check the back first. I gotta say, these are some ridiculous clothes…”

“…”

While Kamijou murmured to himself, Sasha, without a word, swung around her L-shaped crowbar.

Ba-gam!! She struck him with the back of the weapon, cleanly in the temple.

“…Question two. Are you of the same mind as Vasilisa?”

“Grbhhh?! What—? Kfht! What’s a Vasilisa?!” shouted Kamijou faintly from the floor, limbs twitching.

Sasha swung down the crowbar’s right-angle section a few more times, but then, apparently deciding beating him to a pulp wouldn’t improve the situation, she went bright red in the face and put the torture device back on her belt for the time being.

“Answer four. The man named Fiamma’s ritual site was of high grade, but the Soul Arms he used himself were commonplace ones. Not the sort that should give him the power to control an angel of that magnitude.”

…Maybe the special-made tool in this case was Sasha herself, and he only needed tools of normal capabilities to draw out hers.

“However, as an addendum, there was one Soul Arm I’d never seen before.”

“A Soul Arm?!”

Kamijou jumped at that without thinking.

Maybe it was related to the Soul Arm that remotely controlled Index.

“Answer five. In concrete terms, it was a staff. Actually, the symbolic weapon of fire is a rod or a staff, so that isn’t strange, per se.”

“Why’d it catch your attention, then?”

“As an addendum, a staff as the Symbolic Weapon of fire is completed by inserting a bar magnet into the end of its red-painted body. But his staff wasn’t like that.”

“?”

“As a further addendum, to specify, it was a cylinder about this big, small enough to fit in your palm, and it had several small rings on the side. It looked similar to a dial padlock. He’d embedded that in the tip of his staff.”

“…”

He had an idea what that Soul Arm was.

The one that could remotely control Index.

Had Fiamma used the knowledge in the 103,000 grimoires in his ritual to summon Misha Kreutzev? For a moment, he thought so, but then he realized something didn’t make sense about Sasha’s explanation.

Fiamma had been controlling Index just by using the Soul Arm in his hand. He would have been able to draw the necessary knowledge from her.

Why would he have had to modify it, then embed it as part of a staff?

Kamijou thought for a moment, then murmured, “…Wait, you mean he’s applying the Soul Arm’s effect—to manipulate others from a distance—in order to control Misha Kreutzev…?”

7

“We’re on the counterattack at last…,” murmured Nikolai Tolstoj, Russian bishop, in a palace in Moscow.

He was holding a communication Soul Arm shaped like a book.

Right now, it was connected to Fiamma.

“We saw Misha Kreutzev’s emergence from here as well. I’m surprised you were able to amass that much telesma in one place. As long as we can use it as a combat force, nothing else matters. I’ll have you help us crush Academy City’s forces at once.”

Nikolai had several other maps and documents spread out on the table aside from the communication Soul Arm.

“Most of their forces consist of unmanned weapons, a mixture of AI and remote control. We’ll start by destroying their command center here. Our first priority is to win on the EU front that’s steadily approaching Moscow from eastern Europe. Once that’s over, we eliminate the airborne forces passing over the Arctic Sea. I’ll send you maps and their unit movements. Waste no time when you get them—”

“Heh-heh.”

Then it happened.

Nikolai was sure he’d just heard Fiamma laugh.

“It may be incomplete, but I have the archangel of water under my full control—and all you can think of is trivial nonsense.”

“What…are you saying?”

“I understand why you capped out as a bishop. The world is full of incongruity, but this, perhaps, was correct. The office of Patriarch doesn’t suit you. The organization would doubtless begin to collapse.”

“What are you saying, Fiamma?!”

His position—his complex—attacked, Nikolai flew into a rage.

But nothing changed. Fiamma of the Right only continued to laugh.

“Let me ask you something, Nikolai. Did you think I would spend my personal wealth for Russia’s sake? Of course not. Not even if the opposite happened.”

“You…little…”

“I use my wealth for my own, much greater purposes. Why don’t we sum this up? You’ve done well buying me time, reverent Bishop Nikolai Tolstoj. A low role such as that suits you. Fight with Academy City on your own now—and be destroyed on your own.”

“Heh…”

Nikolai’s emotions exploded.

But it wasn’t anger.

It was joy—joy that what he’d prepared for this moment hadn’t gone to waste.

“You’re an imbecile, Fiamma!! You are wrong about the most fundamental thing! Have you forgotten the Russian spells embedded in the fortress you personally lifted into the sky?!”

“…”

“The two hundred sorcerers I dispatched there are all working for me. Did you think I wouldn’t plant anything? One order from me, and that fortress will fall apart in the blink of an eye, raining back down upon the earth as so many random items.”

In exchange for the ability to use special sorcery normal people couldn’t, those in God’s Right Seat couldn’t use magic normal sorcerers could. That was why Fiamma had asked for sorcerer aid from the Russian Church. In other words, normal spells were absolutely indispensable for that fortress’s structure.

And.

The same went for removing Nikolai’s trap, laid secretly within the spell that had constructed the fortress.

“What now, Fiamma?” demanded Nikolai. He had always made his fortune off of profiteering during wartime—he was used to deals like these. “I don’t know what you’re trying to use that fortress for, but if you were that thorough in your preparations to lift it up, it must be essential to your plans. Do you want me to destroy it?”

I’ve won, thought Nikolai.

He’d completely grasped the initiative.

“If you follow the will of Russia, I won’t need to dismantle that fortress. Come—it’s a simple matter of priorities, Fiamma. Russia comes first. If we have time after that, you can execute your objectives. As long as that doesn’t cause issues for Russia.”

“Ha-ha.”

He heard Fiamma laugh quietly.

Nikolai frowned. That wasn’t what he’d expected.

It wasn’t a self-deprecating laugh, one with resignation in it. Fiamma’s laugh was real, as though someone had just told him an awful joke.

In other words.

He was laughing at him.

“If that is truly the deepest plot you can think of, then even a bishopric was too much for you.”

A moment later.

A criiick, like something tearing apart a fiber, rang in Nikolai’s ears. Instantly, a bad feeling swept through him. A magical line necessary for dismantling the fortress’s construction spell had been severed.

“A mere part of God’s Right Seat can’t use normal magic. You are right on that point—but it would be illogical. Why do you think I invaded the UK to obtain the Soul Arm to remotely control the 103,000 volumes?”

“You…No…”

His throat dried up.

He thought he’d had the initiative, and now it was slipping through his fingers like a healthy fish.

“Of the four aspects, I command fire—but not only fire. The four aspects lie at the ends of their own directions. Manipulating one aspect can be interpreted loosely as affecting the other three as well. I have everything I need in order to use sorcery.”

“Use it…? You have power other than God’s Right Seat—? No!!”

“Still, I should detach in order to become the kami-jo. But the usage is what’s important. I can amass the knowledge of man through prudent, appropriate usage. Of course, when all is completed, the sacred light will inevitably eliminate the petty darkness known as human knowledge.

“What I’m trying to say is this,” Fiamma finished quietly, as if to deal the finishing blow to the shallow bishop:

“I requested sorcerers to gain the necessary information about the spells—and to let the Russians slip into negligence. Unfortunately for you, your role is at an end. That last lifeline you were clinging to has just now broken. And I’ll deal with the two hundred sorcerers on my end. Anyway— Well, don’t worry about it. Just die in whatever way you please.”

The communication ended.

It had been a one-sided fight.

He felt as though the difference in their worth to the world had been made palpable. One was the leader of God’s Right Seat, in control of the world’s fate. The other was a single dime-a-dozen bishop.

For a time, Nikolai Tolstoj contemplated his mortality…until his anger fully erupted.

He shoved the book-shaped communication Soul Arm off the table and grabbed a cell phone. It had an encrypted communication chip for high-ranking government officials embedded in it, and with it, he gave an order to another subordinate.

“Send in the reserves.”

The word had a terrifying meaning within it.

He simply shouted, ignoring even how big of a crisis his command would place Russia in.

“I want that fortress blown up!! Right now!!”

8

The battle between Index and Stiyl was still raging in St. George’s Cathedral.

Unfortunately, that battle wasn’t even close to a true contest.

Stiyl, a mere sorcerer, and the grimoire library freely controlling its stock of 103,000 volumes would never have been an even match.

“Chapter thirteen, verse nine. Executing preservation of reach via projectiles.”

Bang!! The red wings on Index’s back burst off.

The red light, like blood splattering, shot at Stiyl like a laser. It would be more than one or two—dozens of attacks were coming at him all at once, from all different angles.

“…!!”

Stiyl didn’t die instantly, partly because of the location.

Part of the floor on the ground level had collapsed, so Stiyl and Index had fallen into the underground Soul Arm storehouse.

He grabbed a Soul Arm at once, fed mana into it, and activated it.

The block-shaped stone, dubbed the Stone of Hrungnir, glowed with a pale-blue hue, then successfully repelled four of the red lights Index had fired.

All of the rest rushed at him, destroying the Soul Arm along with its pale-blue light.

Twisting himself, Stiyl barely avoided the lethal rays.

…From what I can see, the physical control itself uses her brain. The remote-control Soul Arm is only sending her the necessary signals—the parameters needed for actions use what’s inside her already. Which means if I can knock Index out, she’ll stop.

It pained him to put any more of a burden on her, but it was his only choice. He checked the runic cards in his clothes. They weren’t only flames. He had many other cards ready that could produce other effects, centered around Opila to drive others away. Depending on how he combined them, he could create a myriad of effects, and among them was one to mentally bind a targeted person.

He’d postponed doing this because he couldn’t predict the risk—he didn’t know how compatible it would be with the remote-control Soul Arm—but he didn’t have any more time to hesitate. He would swiftly disable Index and mentally restrain her.

The issue was…

How am I supposed to get close to her under this continuous barrage?!

That was when a huge ba-boom went off.

It was the sound of the door to the basement Soul Arm storehouse flying open and several Sisters stepping inside.

“Stiyl, we’re here to assist!! Please regroup—”

“Stop!!”

By the time Stiyl shouted in reply, it was too late.

“Chapter eight, verse forty-three. Mana refinement detected. Identifying those drawing power as hostile entities and eliminating their ability to act.”

Pop. Sparks appeared near Index’s brow.

Immediately after, a large, fan-shaped shock wave billowed out from Index. It knocked over all the Sisters, who were most likely protected to an extent with Soul Arms, then destroyed an entire wall of the underground Soul Arm storehouse before carrying the hostile parties far away like a bulldozer.

Our main combat personnel are all deployed at the Strait of Dover and overseas. Most of the people remaining here are for communication and correspondence. At this rate, she’ll wipe us out!!

Index’s head twisted to look around.

Detecting mana in the walls, the ceiling…and beyond them, she said, “Chapter eight, verse forty-seven. Continuing to eliminate factors with high probability of becoming hostile.”

Boom!! Bang!! One after another, thick beam-looking things fired out. They easily penetrated the walls and ceiling, guarded by magical barriers, then continued, destroying one of St. George’s Cathedral’s magical mechanisms after the next.

Not good. At this rate, she might affect the large-scale Soul Arms supporting our forces on the front lines!!

Then it happened: Someone walked up to the edge of where the ceiling had collapsed.

It was Laura Stuart, archbishop and leader of the English Puritan Church.

…Reinforcements…? he wondered in slight anticipation before realizing he was wrong a moment later.

She shook her hand, displaying something.

As if to show it off.

That’s…her remote-control Soul Arm!!

She was far from reinforcements.

Her silent gesture meant something very simple.

Do something quickly, or I’ll use this.

Stiyl clenched his teeth.

Index was clearly already under massive strain. It was easy to see what would happen if that woman used her remote-control Soul Arm on top of everything else.

He removed runic cards from his inside pocket and forced mana through them.

A sword of flames appeared.

Index’s eyes turned his way, as if drawn to it.

“Chapter twenty, verse six. Reestablishing priority targets. Reevaluation of dangerous factors complete.”

After waiting for her to have her attention on him, Stiyl dashed to the exit of the underground Soul Arm storehouse. If they stayed here, it would only increase the damage. For now, he had to start by luring her into an optimal battlefield.

As Stiyl withdrew, the girl’s unfeeling voice followed after him.

“Preparations complete. Commencing attack.”