The angel that seemed to belong to Academy City had whet his interest ever so slightly but hadn’t affected him much. And a certain esper, positioning to battle alongside that Academy City angel. He was probably the treasure, so to speak, of the science side—but even together, they couldn’t take down Misha Kreutzev.
The effects of Eradication were tremendous.
Even now, the Academy City monsters were persisting in their attack on Misha. But they couldn’t deny the damage was building up. At this rate, a second and third wave of Eradication in quick succession would stop them in their tracks for sure. After all, they couldn’t avoid it or defend against it.
No need to decide things in a single attack.
If Gabriel could slowly but surely whittle away at their strength, she could annihilate them with that accumulated damage.
This was the brute force of numbers the Roman Church so excelled in.
It was the same as river water eroding the land.
“If this is how it will end…”
Fiamma’s fingers brushed his staff.
“If nobody will stop me…”
That Soul Arm he had applied to the archangel’s control, embedded with the remote-control Soul Arm for Index.
“…then my Eradication will cover the world.”
That was when it happened.
Suddenly, a voice spread from within Fiamma of the Right, separate from his sense of hearing.
He knew exactly who owned that “voice.”
“…It’s been so long, Acqua. Do you still intend to call yourself a member of God’s Right Seat? Or have you reverted to the simple mercenary’s life by now?”
“It matters not, so long as I am in a position to stop your atrocities.”
“And how will you do that?” murmured Fiamma of the Right in a casual tone, twirling his staff. “Six billion now cross blades in heated battle throughout the world. You are but one man among them in this situation. How will you save them all?”
“…”
“In fact, you are the symbol of those battles. An affirmation of good, clothed in violence. You were a wonderful pawn, destroying unknown threats throughout the lands and sowing your seeds to the people you saved. People look up to you, thanks to that. And to your way of resolving problems through violence.”
And I have no use for a pawn whose role has ended.
Even regret toward releasing that great martial power was not present in Fiamma’s voice.
“I’m quite sure you understand why this war broke out. It was I who pulled the trigger. But bullets cannot fire without gunpowder. I know you comprehend the meaning behind this structure—and I will still ask you. How will you save everyone?”
“And that is enough reason to wield an archangel against the people?”
“Will you stop me? It would be resolution by violence, once again. A story unfit even for a farce—but how would you do it? Even if you join that Academy City angel, victory is already decided. You must know this—you are the one who infiltrated that city to retrieve Vento on September 30.”
A scornful voice.
“The existence of Academy City’s angel distorts the planes and produces a strong negative effect on sorcery control. That was what forced Vento into a needlessly agonizing battle. You are unable to fight on its side. And if you use martial force anyway, the most you would do is cause mutual competition, mutual chaos.”
“…”
“And if you took turns battling individually, Misha Kreutzev’s raw power would outstrip you all. Despite how it may look, it is a true archangel. The only one who could possibly win in a fair fight is me.”
Thus, he spoke his ultimatum: an utterly one-sided conclusion.
“You have some power, certainly, but only as a piece on my game board. However you choose to wield your sword now, however you utilize your violent force, the archangel will not be stopped. I can yield you the right to at least put up a futile resistance, but the better idea would be to twiddle your thumbs and watch.”
“I see.”
And then Fiamma heard a chuckle.
Acqua had laughed at him.
“Then I will show you a way using no ‘violent force,’ as you say.”
Boom!!!!!!
A moment later, a third of Misha Kreutzev’s total power was gone.
An angel was a body comprising a certain type of energy. It didn’t normally possess a physical form. The insides, for lack of a better term, of Misha Kreutzev’s nonphysical body had suddenly and drastically thinned. And that was enough to make Fiamma, his senses partially linked to her, catch his breath.
“What…did you do? No, this is…”
“Have you forgotten? I am Acqua of the Back. One of God’s Right Seat, the most secret organization in the Roman Church. The symbol of blue, the moon, and the back—and the one who commands Gabriel of the Four Archangels.”
“Wait, have you…taken it into your own body…?!”
“The sealing and release of telesma—angelic power—is the most basic fundamental in Crossist spellcasting. And my body itself functions as the greatest medium to link with Gabriel…If I thoroughly absorb this water-aspected telesma, it goes without saying what will happen to its source, which is Gabriel’s power.”
“…”
It was insane.
No normal sorcerer, to start with, would ever consider packing all the power of an archangel into their own single body. No matter how one viewed it, the person would explode and die in the process.
However…
“It is certainly not impossible.”
Acqua’s voice cut through the walls of common sense.
“In fact, you set your eyes on that Russian nun you used because she was able to do just that.”
“You fool…It was only because she had the knowledge and capacity that it flowed naturally into her during Angel Fall!! It’s not something just anyone can do. Even if you cloned Sasha Kreutzev herself, I doubt the clone would have the same capacity!! Without that much inborn talent, even I would never consider using it in that manner!!”
“That is not what I am saying…If someone else can do it, then so can I. I offer only that simple fact.”
I see, thought Fiamma. He is still part of God’s Right Seat. I suppose this means trying to argue with him using common sense is the wrong move.
“Then go ahead and try.”
“You can be certain that I will.”
“Still, I do hope you’re aware that your reckless challenge will shatter your power. What you’re doing is suicide, plain and simple.”
One man stood alone in snowy Russia.
He was a short distance from the national border with the Independent Nations. He was distant from Fiamma’s fortress, but that presented no inconvenience for the spell he was about to perform.
He’d stuck his great sword, far longer than his height, into the ground halfway and used it to support his own tall frame.
The surrounding air distorted.
The man stood in the middle of an abnormal swaying, as if a large amount of sugar had been dissolved into water.
Immense power.
It flowed inside.
Attached with the color blue and responding to the light of the moon—an enormous amount of telesma.
“Whoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa???!!!”
A rush.
A vortex of power, seeping in through every pore, collecting at the center of his body. The quantity was too much to reside fully within a human body. It was the same as how only a certain amount of air could fit into a balloon. If you tried to pack even more into it, the eventual outcome was clear.
Red blood sprayed out from his arms and legs.
He felt like sparks were arcing across his spine and neck.
His blood vessels and nerves weren’t safe, either. He now knew the feeling of all that wiring, split up into co
untless branches, splitting and tearing apart. His two legs shook madly, and his body, which had been so sturdy before, was now on the verge of breaking.
But he wouldn’t fall.
The sword he had driven into the ground—and his own heart. Steadying himself with only those two things, this man would never crumple.
The damage didn’t stay in his physical body.
Something important, something that had maintained his functioning as a sorcerer, continued to pull apart.
He was a saint—and a member of God’s Right Seat. A fusion of the two talents was within him, and he was one of only a very few sorcerers who wielded such immense power. He could feel the wellspring of that power shattering, crumbling to pieces. Even now, with every passing moment, more of his magical power was lost. He would probably drain himself of it utterly. And it was likely things wouldn’t stop there. Even as he felt himself breaking apart from within, he didn’t stop.
The enemy’s strength would weaken for every bit of telesma that flowed to him.
The angelic power of salvation would decrease the chances his opponent would kill others.
That was enough.
As long as that held true, the man would be able to continue gritting his teeth and confront this incredible telesma.
And…
Roar!!!!!!
Accelerator’s attack landed squarely on Misha Kreutzev.
The Eradication it had tried to rain upon them lost control over its aim, only causing the night sky to shake before stopping.
As Misha Kreutzev careened away, Accelerator and the angel of science headed toward it.
To deliver a follow-up attack.
To prevent it from further reducing the battlefield to scrap metal and rubble.
And…
Fiamma of the Right smiled slightly.
The total telesma Acqua of the Back had forced into its own body was around half of what Gabriel could muster. Even that alone was plenty threatening—but nevertheless, humans were humans. Unless he was a special exception like Sasha Kreutzev, he wouldn’t be able to contain the entirety of an archangel.
And.
“Even fifty percent is more than enough to win,” said Fiamma, sounding bored. “To have lost both your sainthood and your place in God’s Right Seat, only for it to end now? Your life will go unrequited.”
Kill them, he commanded.
That would be the end.
The archangel Misha Kreutzev would kill the angel of science and Academy City esper, then swiftly eliminate Academy City’s armored units. None could stop Fiamma’s plans. As long as he had Misha, even if over fifty thousand nuclear missiles were fired at the same time, they could never bring down the Star of Bethlehem.
That was how it should have been.
But she wasn’t moving.
Misha Kreutzev, to whom he had given his command to kill, was frozen.
He had a bad feeling about this.
He had a perfectly advantageous position—and now it had very slightly tilted. It was no more than an extremely tiny movement, and yet, he felt an unease that he couldn’t ignore, as though everything, strangely, was about to slip away.
And—
“That bastard…”
Fiamma of the Right figured it out.
One other thing.
There was one other presence that could only use his full power on this irregular battlefield.
“That bastard.”
8
Meanwhile.
Touma Kamijou was in a corner of the Star of Bethlehem. At the ritual site on the fortress’s rightmost section, where Misha Kreutzev’s summoning using Sasha’s body had been conducted.
Fiamma had apparently embedded the Index-remote-control Soul Arm into his staff in order to control Misha. If Kamijou could destroy that staff with his right hand, it should stop Misha, but to do that, he’d have to clash with Fiamma, an unknown value.
And there was one more thing.
Kamijou had thought of a possibility that could stop Misha Kreutzev with more certainty and also quicker.
“…Misha Kreutzev appeared after the Star of Bethlehem did,” he murmured—as if to explain to Sasha next to him or perhaps to confirm it to himself. “If he could use something as strong as an archangel in the war, he didn’t need to conserve it. He wouldn’t have to cause World War III. He could have just done everything with the one archangel. But he didn’t. Not until the Star of Bethlehem appeared.
“In other words,” he continued, “he needed the Star of Bethlehem to summon the archangel Misha Kreutzev and control it!! He couldn’t have used it before the fortress went airborne, even if he wanted to!! There’s something in the Star propping up Misha. If I can find whatever it is and destroy it with my right hand, then…!!”
Touma Kamijou had grabbed onto a thin pillar-like object in the ritual site.
It was about three centimeters across. There were dozens of straight-standing pillars with black fluid flowing through them. Others had white fluid in them, too. According to Sasha, white and black formed a pair, controlling the ritual site’s “gate,” used for drawing occult powers from outside to inside. There were dozens of them because, apparently, that “power” needed complex routes to travel through.
There they were, right in front of him.
So he began to break every single one.
With shrill cracks and creaks and crashes, the transparent vessels shattered. The white-and-black liquid inside them spilled out, marbling together on the floor.
He felt something abruptly tilt.
He couldn’t see it with his eyes, but it was something that was clearly there. And Touma Kamijou had definitely just felt its foundation shake.
And.
With Acqua of the Back reducing its total power by half.
And Touma Kamijou destroying the foundation supporting it.
As the strongest Level Five created by Academy City and the angel of science fiercely attacked, Misha Kreutzev…
The archangel’s roar ripped through the night sky over Russia.
A scream filled with sinister emotion, utterly incomprehensible to the human mind but clearly different from the simple sound of an explosion.
Misha’s form, barely maintained in the shape of a human body, collapsed into a mush.
It reverted to a ball of pure power.
To an immense amount of energy.
And it was a bomb.
Accelerator, confronting the archangel from the closest position, gave a start; then, ignoring his electrode usage time, shot straight toward the archangel at full power.
…Doesn’t matter if it’s out of place, or incongruous, or whatever.
The power to press forward.
The power he never had when he’d been wandering around Russia after fleeing Academy City.
He detonated all of it.
Yeah, that’s right!! I want to protect her! I don’t want to lose her!! I don’t even want to think about that!! If I can protect that one illusion, I’ll face whatever reality I have to!!
He couldn’t control that massive power with simple reflection alone.
He didn’t know if the angel of science was an ally or an enemy, but he shouted this at her:
“H old it baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!!!!!!”
Did she have time to move?
Was she able to make it?
Immediately after.
It detonated.
A pure-white flash of light reached out, shaped like a dome. A terrifying light, all too pure, that swallowed everything. Light intense enough to burn one’s eyes even if they were shut painted over the unnatural night in bright white.
Normally, everything for dozens of miles around would have gone to ash.
It was an explosion due to a unique force. Even aside from that, if odd side effects occurred, it wouldn’t be strange. It was even highly likely it would have become a literal barren wasteland.
<
br /> However.
Before the explosion could expand, it gave off unnatural distortions.
The angel of science rammed the massive power residing in her body into Accelerator, who then manipulated its vectors to create a transparent wall that surrounded the explosion in a spherical shape. The explosion had reached out about three hundred meters in the span of an instant and, covering it completely with an outer shell, too, further increased the force trying to tear through it from the inside.
Light and sound intensified.
But Accelerator held it back.
Two enormous powers contended, one from within and the other from without.
The entire event only took place over a few seconds.
And then…
After verifying the telesma’s dispersion, Acqua’s hand slowly released his giant sword.
The hand was covered in blood. No—his hand was not the only thing stained red.
He could feel his power draining.
Leaving his sword, stuck halfway into the ground, Acqua collapsed onto the snow, his face not changing very much. His mouth alone, however, had just slightly slackened.
This was enough.
If they could just eliminate the archangel Gabriel, the war’s balance would shift greatly. Fiamma possessed a great strength, but he was too confident in it. That was why he’d forgotten people could challenge strong enemies by banding together. He could no longer see the option of entrusting the war to another with the same goals. Indeed—just like Acqua himself was, once upon a time.
His nerves and blood vessels had been torn asunder, and he had lost his foundation for controlling magic.
His life wouldn’t last much longer, either.
He would die, taking the archangel with him.
This was enough.
It wasn’t his goal to see this through to the end. He had prepared one necessary foundation for that purpose. With this, everyone had taken another step closer to Fiamma high in the sky. So it didn’t matter. As long as everyone was smiling in the distant future, it was a grand enough victory for a mercenary like himself. Whether he was part of that future wasn’t the problem.
Then it happened.
A Certain Magical Index, Vol. 21 Page 17
