A Certain Magical Index, Vol. 16

by Kazuma Kamachi

  “That spear…”

  “Yes—it’s coated in fifteen hundred layers of resin.” Itsuwa grinned, barely holding her weapon in place. “It represents the rings indicating wood’s age, and the hidden form’s identity is the reproductive power of plant life. Until this spell reaches its limit, this hardness will only continue to grow firmer with the passage of time. Every second that goes by makes it sturdier. Have a taste, and know the power of my Weeds!!”

  “However, you have several other spells layered on it…”

  “…Why was clothing adopted in every civilization in the world? Do you need an explanation on what hidden forms are for?”

  The sweater Itsuwa wore was unnaturally torn near the armpit, revealing pale skin beneath. Almost as though she had substituted it to take the mace’s damage for her.

  “To defend the wearer, yes…This must be its most important meaning. However, it is an ancillary damage-reduction spell, not convenient enough to defend against any sort of attack unarmed.”

  Acqua hadn’t seen anything like this in the last battle. And they didn’t have to be stingy about it now. In other words, Amakusa’s members had been very quick to get such highly effective Soul Arms and spells ready.

  But that wasn’t what surprised him the most.

  She kept up with my speed…?

  He was a saint. His speed was overwhelming. No normal human could keep up with it. Itsuwa should have been dead right now, unable to move a finger.

  And yet she’d reacted.

  She’d only had half a step to catch up later; she didn’t have any time to switch to a counterattack. And yet her defense had still worked.

  How? Acqua wondered, but then he realized the answer a moment later:

  There was a certain regularity to the fifty Amakusa members’ movements. A more unique regularity than a simple, efficient battle line. As soon as he thought Itsuwa was their center, the center moved. When he looked for it again, he would find it scattered among all of them; it wasn’t an actual center. But the moment he took his mind off that center, it would return to Itsuwa. It was an odd sensation, this center, almost like a creature sliding through the single group.

  Sometimes it would coalesce, other times it would scatter, and like the sand in an hourglass, it combined their individual movements into one larger meaning.

  Are they reinforcing one another’s kinetic vision and physical abilities?

  “Parlor tricks…,” he said with a frown at their movements—which seemed accustomed to fighting against saints. Sainthood was a rare talent that less than twenty people in the world had. Only so many people would personally see one in their lifetime.

  Hmph. I see. The Amakusa-Style Crossist Church. A saint like myself was once a member of their ranks.

  With that taken into consideration, their eyes must have been used to the speed, strength, and intelligence of a saint. And they had the brains to bring out that experience, resulting in her having made a spell to keep up with Acqua.

  He pulled his mace back once, then readied it again, giving Itsuwa another look. “But it’s still too slow.”

  “?!”

  Sshwohhh!! The saint charged in again.

  Before Itsuwa could feel the blast of wind, the mace came at her in a horizontal sweep. She barely caught it, but by the time her clothing had ripped and allowed her to magically elude the impact, the next attack was already coming from overhead. She tried to swing her spear at it, but that was when the first strike’s impact washed over her, sending her body falling backward.

  As Acqua’s second attack fell more swiftly at her than the shock from the first, the middle-aged Isahaya sacrificed his katana to delay the mace’s path for a half second, and in that time, the woman Tsushima grabbed Itsuwa by the neck and hurled her aside.

  The third attack Acqua performed passed through the spot Itsuwa had just occupied, mercilessly crushing the asphalt on the bridge.

  Go-gong!! The bridge itself swayed, unstable.

  Though Isahaya had avoided a direct hit, the barrage of asphalt fragments pelted his body, sending him flying.

  Acqua tried to pursue Itsuwa further, but then he saw a glare of light mixed into the gray dust.

  A wire.

  No—more than one.

  The next thing he knew, all those people, close to fifty, with the spear-wielder at the center, had launched ultra-thin wires from their fingertips. Each of them controlled seven strands. Three hundred fifty wires in all formed a spider’s web, attacking Acqua from all directions.

  “Hmph.”

  Acqua didn’t dodge.

  Ga-pah!! He exposed himself to the ultra-thin blades slicing through the air and then, on top of that, used a strength technique to force them all to rip.

  It was far from a certain-kill move—it had stopped him for less than a second.

  Acqua of the Back, of God’s Right Seat, had just displayed his overwhelming power.

  “You killed me.”

  Quietly.

  A voice, whispering into his ear:

  “YOU KILLED ME.”

  I see, so that’s it…?! The same moment Acqua clenched his teeth, a red mist-like gas spurted from the severed wires. It expanded so far it was like it had bleached out the black night sky, immediately beginning to engulf his body.

  “…The hidden form—Punishment for Murderers.”

  Itsuwa’s mutter came to him from where she stood, in the center of the broken bridge. The red mist suddenly inflated from within, bursting.

  Amakusa’s sorcery had whipped up a massive explosion from within the mist. Not only had it trapped him in an inescapable prison—now an overwhelming explosion danced through the inside. No matter how fast he was, he wouldn’t escape it.

  “This spell redefines the wires as individual lifelines, then delivers punishment on any who destroy them. It uses religious views shared throughout the world, east and west, in every culture—it holds the meaning of negative resentment, which no civilization’s defensive techniques can block.”

  The mass of red consuming Acqua burst a second time, then a third. Boom!! Bam!! Dull sounds, one after another, like explosions occurring underwater. They chained further, multiplying, until the red mist hung like a twisted bunch of grapes.

  The most advanced technique they had, unachievable with one’s power alone, created by the singular entity known as Amakusa.

  But the looks on their faces were not bright.

  Da-boom!!

  Their killing spell tore open from within, then scattered in every direction.

  What caused it was a far more powerful explosion than the ones Amakusa had prepared. The blast was a rank stronger than the one they’d brought to kill a man, and it easily destroyed the prison.

  As dust swirled into water vapor, a gray curtain fell across their surroundings.

  From beyond it came a deep male voice.

  “I will tell you of my sacrifice.”

  An enormous silhouette wavered behind that curtain. Something circulated there, something like a core within the shadow.

  “My characteristics are of Gabriel. And because of his connection to the Annunciation, I can, to some extent, use a technique related to the Virgin Mother—a secret ritual known as the Adoration of Mary.”

  His words alone continued on.

  “The Adoration of Mary attenuates severe punishment.”

  Acqua of the Back, of God’s Right Seat.

  His voice alone dominated the world.

  “Those who believe will be saved. But one of Jesus’s characteristics is to levy severe, suitable punishment on those who do not follow his rules. The Adoration of Mary mitigates this. Like a substitute for a woman who runs away from a convent, one who will take her space in the rolls until the woman’s return.”

  The silhouette slowly moved.

  Forward, to break the curtain made of dust and vapor.

  “Unlike the Son of God, born at once as man, as God, and as the Holy Spirit, Mary is pure child of man al
one, a rare being who has stepped deeply into God’s realm. It is said she received from this the role of intervening with God on the behalf of those suffering severe punishments despite having incredibly pure hearts.”

  His voice rumbled.

  High and mighty, and unconcealed.

  “The conclusion is this. My special quality is the Mercy of Mary, which nullifies punishment. It can warp even the impartial and definite Last Judgment. It can change even the signposts sending the souls of the dead to heaven or hell. All acts of restriction based on severe punishment versus sin and evil have no meaning for me. To wipe away the sin of murder, I don’t even need to move a finger. Did you honestly think this would work against one who can erase even the sins of God hi—?”

  Da-bam!! Another explosion. The gray curtain covering Acqua was swept away, all in an instant.

  “Hmm. Do they not think it polite to listen until the end?”

  Acqua put his giant mace on his shoulder and sighed in annoyance. Nobody was here but him. They’d kindly left him a spell that would leave only the sense of their presence behind. All fifty of the Amakusa combat personnel had disappeared into thin air.

  He was the only one left on the bridge, but he grinned like a hunter trailing the footmarks of his prey.

  “I suppose this makes the pursuit more enjoyable.”

  7

  The current members of Amakusa, centered around Saiji Tatemiya, had moved to a small plaza about three hundred meters from the bridge. They had acted alongside the spell they’d placed on Acqua, Taboo Against Murder; they’d put the spell together beforehand so that they could quickly flee if it was broken.

  Someone with his skill would surely sense their presence and mana flow. There were only so many places in this underground city to hide, and Amakusa had a good reason they couldn’t flee anyway.

  “He broke it, as we thought. What now, Vicar Pope?” asked Ushibuka, collecting the wires, cut apart like strands of cotton.

  “…Would have been nice if it got him, but things won’t be so easy.”

  Tatemiya, flamberge still in hand, looked around. Amakusa had displayed enough physical ability to keep up with Acqua of the Back, but it wasn’t actually that convenient a thing. Besides, if all fifty of them could move with the same speed as a saint at all times, they’d be more treasured than the saints were.

  “Deception will only get us so far,” Itsuwa huffed, trying to catch her breath.

  The physical enhancement spell had actually been keyed by touching someone’s back. The hidden ritual was “physical recovery by touching the back.” While fighting, they constantly changed their formation, touching one another’s backs when moving or crossing. It restored their physical abilities and enhanced them temporarily. The spell couldn’t be used alone; as it benefited allies, it was unique to groups. In addition, when in an area with suitable “lines” for geomantic sleeping places and rest places, the effects were amplified.

  They’d successfully kept up even with the saint by heightening their allies’ physical abilities over and over, but they couldn’t completely repel the enemy’s attacks. And if the formation itself was thrown into disarray, they wouldn’t be able to strengthen one another.

  This wasn’t enough to defeat Acqua of the Back.

  That was the kind of monster a saint was.

  “Which means we’re going to have to use our trump card. We’ll counterattack starting with Itsuwa, with her spear, following the form of the Son of God’s execution. No holding back. Be ready for this.”

  Tatemiya looked around, particularly at Itsuwa, for confirmation.

  Her Friulian spear still in both hands, the young woman nodded slightly.

  That was when it happened:

  Zzwahhh!! A chill crawled over the skin of everyone there. Some sort of giant presence was tearing through the dark, swiftly approaching them. They could feel it. No need to ask who it was—who could it have been but Acqua?

  Amakusa still had its “trump card” plan. But because it was their big move, they couldn’t use it right off the bat.

  “Damn. Form up!!” shouted Tatemiya.

  Amakusa’s members moved like a wave. Not forward, backward, left, or right—but below. They got their hands into the artificial, tiled ground and wrenched open a one-meter-square section of tile as though it were a hatch. Underneath the surface waited a space of steel and concrete.

  A damp metal staircase and railing, and thick, crisscrossing pipes. As the machinery made low, regular rumbles, Itsuwa pressed her back to the pipes in order to slip through the cracks available. This must have been a hydraulic generator and its transformer.

  The partition between the underground city’s strata was about ten meters thick. It seemed they were using the space for energy production facilities.

  As Tatemiya, Itsuwa, and the others passed through the intricate passages, they set up the wires all over as traps. They didn’t think they’d defeat Acqua with them. They just needed to buy time.

  Amakusa continued, aiming ever lower.

  For now, they would retreat from the third stratum, where Acqua was, to the unharmed fourth stratum to buy time. Then they’d make the necessary preparations for their trump card.

  “You’ve shown me something good. Allow me to show you something better.”

  But suddenly, the deep male voice rang through the dimly lit space. It bounced many times, making it impossible to locate the source.

  “I have the property of Gabriel. Surely you know what I can control.”

  “?!”

  There was no time to react. The thick pipes crisscrossing through the concrete space promptly exploded from within. The water-carrying pipes were over one meter across and five centimeters thick—yet they tore apart like paper, sending a rain of guitar pick–sized metal fragments scattering. Snap! Crack!! Orange sparks burst this way and that. The speeding fragments were hitting the concrete and ricocheting.

  “I can easily control the volume of water. Used the right way, I can make it into a bomb.”

  Ga-bam-bam-bam-bam!! The pipes exploded in all directions, one after another.

  The cloud of metal fragments, pushed by the mixture of water and vapor, turned into a shotgun deluge that pelted the Amakusa. Itsuwa, finally reacting, knocked one fragment heading toward her face out of the air with her spear, but it instead threatened to mow her down completely.

  The sheer force behind it was incredible, but something else bothered Itsuwa. A moment before the pipes ruptured, she’d seen what looked like shining letters. They spelled laguz.

  A symbolic word.

  “Wait…A water rune?!”

  It was an incredibly commonplace sorcery, one that could even be called “a typical example of magic” due to how basic it was.

  “That reaction…You must have learned something about God’s Right Seat from Terra’s corpse.”

  According to the English Puritan Church’s report, because the bodies of those in God’s Right Seat more closely resembled angels than humans and although they could use special spells, they weren’t supposed to be able to use spells regular sorcerers could. So why?

  “Is it truly that surprising? No, a member of God’s Right Seat cannot use the normal magics of man. However, my Adoration of Mary spell effectively removes those promises, those bindings, those conditions.”

  He could use both the power of a saint and God’s Right Seat…

  And on top of that, he had a perfect grasp of both human and angelic spells.

  “Did you not think it strange? When I first attacked, who do you think used one of the most popular sorceries of all, Opila, to ward everyone off?”

  There was a vast difference in both attack varieties and power.

  The monster was equipped with quality as well as quantity. He spoke only the truth, with no needless emotion expressed.

  “Do not put me, Acqua of the Back, on the same level as those others from God’s Right Seat.”

  Ugh…! Several more pipes rupt
ured, and finally, the turbine itself used to generate water power exploded, attacking her. Seeing the turbine’s propeller whirling toward her like a rotary knife, Itsuwa went over the metal railing without using the stairs, falling straight down into the dark. She used her spear to pierce through a hatch in the floor, then leaned outside to see the ceiling section of the fourth stratum, the one right below the third.

  From the floor where she was, it was about a twenty-meter drop. Along the ceiling were thin, metal walkways and crisscrossing stairs. The sight looked like a theater stage, and directly below her were not the buildings and roads of the fourth stratum but the giant planetarium screen, still displaying the surface sky. The giant sheet of fabric covering the city was hung from the ceiling with countless thin support beams and wires placed at regular intervals.

  But Itsuwa didn’t have the time to be rapt over the bizarre sight.

  “…!! Where’s Ac—?”

  “I’m right here.”

  By the time she heard the voice suddenly next to her, she’d already felt wind pressure. Before she could turn that way, her spear moved out of reflex. It caught the weighty attack coming at her—but it immediately sent her careening fifteen meters away. He’d struck her down along with her spear.

  Gshahh!! A dull sound followed, ringing in her ears.

  Itsuwa, somehow enduring the damage to her whole body, tried to set herself up to land. But there was no footing. With no options left, she fell toward the giant screen.

  Surprisingly, the screen supported her body without ripping. It must have also been engineered to prevent things from falling from the ceiling.

  Not thinking about the unstable, sinking footing, Itsuwa readied her spear again and looked forward.

  Acqua of the Back.

  The man, carrying the mace on his shoulder, which was incomparably larger than her spear, jumped down from the railing himself, landing atop the screen.

  “Let us leave the warm-up at that,” he said quietly, angling his mace at her again. “We both hold weapons now. There is no reason they should not cross.”

  “…You’re right,” said Itsuwa slowly, pointing her spear’s cross-shaped tip at Acqua. “But I can’t guarantee I’m alone.”