2_Chapter 1_ The Fortress of Glass

CHAPTER 1 The Fortress of GlassThe_Tower_of_BABEL. 1 In this room, there were no windows. There were no doors, no stairs, and no elevators or hallways. This “building”—which served none of the functions of one—was an impenetrable citadel, accessible only by a Level Four teleportation ability. This Curriculate Fortress was easily tougher than a nuclear shelter. Inside it stood a single sorcerer. His name was Stiyl Magnus. Stiyl was both the flame-specialist paragon of runic magic and a priest of English Puritanism. At the young age of fourteen, he was an exception among exceptions: an expert at sorcerer-killing magic. Normally, he was not someone who should have been here. Not here in this building, but here in this city. He was a member of the occult Necessarius, the Church of Necessary Evils and the 0th parish of English Puritanism, a denomination of Crossism. Right now, he was within the borders of the completely anti-occult Academy City, a factory for the mass production of espers via drugs, biostimulation, and sleep learning. He stuck out like a tarot card in a fifty-two-card poker deck. There was a reason he was in this place he shouldn’t be. He was currently present as a delegate of English Puritanism, and his goal was to conduct a dialogue with the humans of Academy City, who differed in principles and position. However, considering he was representing an organization, his personality was possessed of a striking flaw. He was not a man who felt any hesitation in killing others. He wouldn’t even twitch an eyebrow at setting a living being awash with flames. “…” Despite that, though, he would never grow accustomed to the sight before his eyes, no matter how many times he witnessed it. In this room, too wide and vast to call indoors, there were no sources of illumination. Nevertheless, the room was overcome with starlike lights. Completely covering all four walls were innumerable monitors, buttons, and other such things, each blinking on and off. From the thousands of different machines of various sizes came tens of thousands of cords, cables, and tubes, all sprawled across the floor like arteries, gathering in the area at the center of the room. In the middle of everything was a giant beaker. Four meters in diameter, and more than ten in height, the cylindrical container was made of tempered glass and filled with red fluid. Although it had previously been explained to Stiyl that the liquid’s hue was that of a weakly alkaline culture solution, scientific concepts were well removed from his own field as a sorcerer. A person in green surgical garments floated inside the beaker. The word person was the only way to describe the figure. They looked both male and female, both old and young, and both holy and sinful. Was this person a superposition of every human possibility or had they abandoned them all? Whichever the case, there was no word to use except person. “Every man and woman who comes here has the same reaction when they observe my state of being—” began the person submerged in the beaker. In a voice that could be heard to both male and female, adults and children, and to saints and to sinners. “—but there really isn’t a need for humans to go out of their way to do what machines can.” That summed up this person. One can compensate for all biological activities using machines. Therefore, there was no meaning in doing those things yourself. The outer limit of humanity, with an estimated life span of 1,700 years, was staring Stiyl in the face. Stiyl was terrified. He wasn’t scared of Academy City’s scientific prowess and how it could replace all human biological processes with machines. No, what made him tremble was this human’s very perspective—the willingness, the lack of hesitation to abandon their flesh and give their life over to machinery just because they could. A human… …The thought of a human warped to this extent was what frightened him so intensely. “I believe you know the reason I called you here—” asserted the Academy City general board chairman, the person named Aleister, while floating upside down, “—but things have gotten troublesome.” Stiyl frowned at that. He couldn’t have imagined the person before him would complain about something “troublesome.” “Would you be referring to Deep Blood?” He normally stayed away from speaking in a formal tone of voice, but things were different here. He wasn’t doing so because of his position as representative of the Church. It was because he knew that if Aleister felt even a moment’s hostility toward him, he would tear him to pieces before he could blink. It didn’t matter if Stiyl himself had any hostility. A simple misunderstanding or misinterpretation on Aleister’s part could cost Stiyl his life. Because this was the enemy’s base… …and this was a place with control over 2.3 million espers. “Hm.” Aleister watched over the shivering Stiyl. “If it were just an esper, there wouldn’t be a problem. It was one of the espers originally in my possession. If it were an incident caused in this city, by this city’s residents, there would be 70,632 different methods we could use to resolve it or cover it up, but—” “…” Stiyl didn’t have any particular thoughts on the matter. He didn’t care what sort of fail-safes Academy City had set up, nor would he understand this world of science if it was explained to him anyway. “—the problem is that one of your sorcerers has involved himself in an incident that he should have stayed out of.” Therefore, Stiyl focused his thoughts on this one point. The Bloodsucker Killer, “Deep Blood.” He knew the name not from Academy City’s data banks, but from the archives of the British Library. As the name implied, it was said to be the power to kill a certain creature whose very existence was uncertain. Both the details of the ability and its authenticity were unknown. At any rate, he had only heard that there lived a young woman named Deep Blood. The girl in possession of this Deep Blood was currently imprisoned by a sorcerer. That one piece of information encapsulated the incident. “Hm. Them being someone from outside this city makes things a tad complicated,” Aleister explained, still flipped over. “It isn’t like it would be difficult for a city with the strength of more than 2.3 million espers to crush one or two sorcerers. The problem lies elsewhere: It has to do with us killing one of you.” Both Academy City and Necessarius commanded their own worlds. Things were the way they were right now because each of them held complete control over its own art: the scientific and the occult, respectively. If Academy City, with its supervision of espers, was to threaten a sorcerer, those on the side of the sorcerers would not take kindly to it. The situation was very much akin to a top-of-the-line aircraft going down behind enemy lines. It could possibly let the enemy army gain information about your technology. “I suppose that means it would be difficult for you to request reinforcements, then,” said Stiyl in an uninterested tone. A combined force of espers and sorcerers could spark conflict for the same reason. There might be struggles over who would lead the team, because it would be easy for one side to steal the other’s technology under the pretense of ascertaining their combat abilities. That raised another question. Stiyl had come to Academy City about two weeks ago and had fought an esper. When he considered it calmly, why had that battle been an exception and overlooked? There might have been some kind of deal made between Academy City and the Church that he wasn’t privy to. Or that the city treated that young man as having little importance, since he was a Level Zero, an “Impotent.” But this current case was different. The espers and sorcerers involved in this turmoil were all important people, and all of them had great power. “I see—that’s why you’ve summoned an exception: me,” Stiyl replied, maintaining his expression. He said this just to affirm the facts. In other words, Stiyl Magnus himself was a special case here. There would be a problem if a sorcerer was killed by an esper. However, there wouldn’t be any problem if Stiyl took down a sorcerer, since he was a sorcerer himself. And when he gave a thought to his superiors, he knew they would probably want to deal with their own embarrassment by themselves. They wouldn’t consent to anything unless someone from the Church dealt with the sorcerer. “Now then, here is what we must consider. A miniature of the battlefield.” By some kind of contraption, a direct image suddenly swam up in front of him in the darkness. It was a wireframe-like drawing done in CG. It displayed a sketched map of a completely normal building, which would be the field of battle this time. The words “Misawa Cram School” were written in a trim font on the edge of the sketch. “We’ve analyzed its interior using satellite imagery, as well as its construction blueprints.” There was no emphasis in Aleister’s voice. “Whether there are any sort of magical traps inside is unknown. It’s outside my field, after all.” “…” “This Misawa Cram School has a somewhat unique background.” Aleister’s explanation went like this. Academy City had always been a large teaching establishment that gathered hundreds of schools of all sizes into one place. Among its Curricula, it included the preeminent “Supernatural Ability Development” program. The Misawa Cram School was a prep school with locations all over the country. The original reason a branch of it had been placed in Academy City was more than likely so it could be used as a giant corporate spy to steal the city’s teaching techniques. Unfortunately, the Misawa School dabbled only halfheartedly in Ability Development and came under bad influence. In what could be referred to as scientific worship, they have been enslaved by the cultlike idea that they were “chosen ones” for being the only people who knew about Ability Development. Eventually, the city’s branch school even started to ignore the orders of the Misawa School Group and ran amok. As a result, it had ended up taking the girl named Deep Blood prisoner in accordance with its “teachings.” “But why might Misawa Cram School have placed Deep Blood in confinement? Does their doctrine contain the objective of sacrificing themselves to the descendants of Cain in order to achieve immortality, like some sixteenth-century cult?” “No. The school has no particular attachment to Deep Blood. I suspect they would have done the same to any esper whose power was unique and couldn’t be reproduced.” “?” “The student ranking in Academy City is separated into two factors: a student’s academic ability and their abnormal powers. Because of this, they must have considered it meaningful to acquire Deep Blood and conduct research on her. If they were to announce that they can mass-produce an amazingly rare ability, it could effectively bait in Level Two “Adepts” and Level Three “Experts,” since they usually have a complex regarding their own more widespread abilities.…But for heaven’s sake, it’s impossible to change an already-awakened ability into a different one, even with a brain transplant.” But Stiyl found this odd. Say it was a rule in this city that less common abilities granted higher societal status, but he couldn’t believe that anyone in such a science-ridden place would believe in something like the occult creature in question. As he pondered it, Aleister answered him casually. “In any case, if you acknowledge the value in the power’s rarity, the story makes sense. There are plenty of other espers with unidentified abilities, not the least of which is Imagine Breaker, as well as espers who have never had the opportunity to show the true extent of their power in combat because of their enormous power.” In any case, things would be easy if it was just that Deep Blood was being held captive. As an internal affair of Academy City, they could have used any one of the 70,632 methods Aleister had mentioned of dealing with the case. That wasn’t the problem. Just before they had handled it, an outside sorcerer came to Misawa School seeking Deep Blood. On top of that, he didn’t destroy the school—he hijacked it, which is what made this all so intricate. “…” Stiyl silently gazed at the map of the school building. He couldn’t tell how much it had been magically “remodeled.” He felt nervousness run down his spine a bit. It was the sort he got when he was blindly diving into a situation he couldn’t predict. While the sensation was familiar to him, it didn’t feel good. It only meant that a battle of life or death, of zero or one, was inevitable. However, the city had a combat potential of 2.3 million espers. The thought that he’d be alone for such a fight was a little enjoyable. “No, not really,” assured Aleister, appearing to read his mind. Perhaps there was some kind of equipment in the room that could detect a person’s thought patterns. “Lest you forget, I am in possession of one of your worst enemies.” Stiyl stiffened and gulped. Imagine Breaker. That was the name of the boy he had engaged in deadly combat with two weeks ago. It was the name of a unique boy, one which implied something beyond the realm of common sense and possibly beyond even the realm of the strange. It could cancel out any unnatural power, from sorcery to supernatural abilities to divine miracles; all he needed to do was touch it with his right hand. “Will it not be an issue to utilize a supernatural ability to defeat a sorcerer?” “That isn’t an obstacle, either,” Aleister responded, as if they had prepared what to say in advance. “First of all, he is a Level Zero with no valuable information. We don’t need to fear our information leaking to you if he was to act in conjunction with a sorcerer.” “…” “Secondly, he doesn’t have the intelligence to understand your techniques. Therefore, none of your information would leak to us if he acted in conjunction with a sorcerer, either.” This fox… For the first time, Stiyl felt a grudge toward Aleister. He couldn’t discern this person’s intentions. He understood from experience, down to the very marrow of his bones, that Imagine Breaker was far from useless. Of course, that power wasn’t something Stiyl could understand the mechanics of at a glance. In addition, it was probably impossible to steal that technology and return to the Church with it. But he thought that Academy City was in the same boat as him. Well, he wanted to believe they were, because if something like that could be mass-produced, the Church would find itself in quite the predicament. He could, after all, smash thousand-year-old sacred treasures to pieces just by poking them with his right hand. The Imagine Breaker was so rare and so valuable, and yet Aleister handled it so carelessly. Like Aleister was giving him various trials, molding a man walking the path of a saint. Like Aleister was pounding heated steel with a heavy hammer, forging a true blade. “…” And, above all, shouldn’t the 103,000 books at the young man’s side be taboo? Aleister’s true intent and spoken intent were at odds with each other. Stiyl harbored doubts about it deep in his heart but didn’t let it show on his face. He took caution to disallow it. He didn’t want even the slightest bit of trouble coming to that girl. “…Deep Blood.” Stiyl muttered, exhaling. His face was that of a scholar with a question he couldn’t find an answer to. “Deep Blood. Does something like that really exist? If it did, then that would—” Stiyl stopped, unable to complete his sentence. Deep Blood, the Bloodsucker Killer…The fact that she was called this meant that those certain creatures to be killed must exist. The ability wouldn’t make sense otherwise. In other words, acknowledging the existence of Deep Blood proved in and of itself the reality of that certain creature. “Hm. The occult is more your domain than ours, I think. I suppose that means even your sensibilities cannot accept it, then.” Of course not, Stiyl thought, digesting it in his mind. The mana used by sorcerers worked like gasoline. The user’s life span and life force were the crude oils from which it was created, while the user’s breathing, blood flow, and meditation were what refined it into an easily usable source of fuel, “gasoline.” That was why sorcerers were not omnipotent in the slightest. However far one made it in his pursuit of sorcery, he only has so much gasoline to work with. However, this creature didn’t have that limitation. Because this creature had the ludicrous characteristic of immortality, it would boast an infinite amount of mana—even in spite of the fact that the very resources of the planet seem limitless but still have a bottom. The descendants of Cain—vampires. They weren’t the simple things from children’s stories that could be dealt with by a cross or the sunlight. Just one of them could present a threat to the entire world rivaling that of nuclear bombs. “Well.” The person upside down in the giant beaker looked at Stiyl disinterestedly. “Do you know why what we call supernatural abilities exist in the first place?” “…Why?” There was no reason Stiyl would have known, nor did he think Aleister would tell him the truth. Granting confidential information to an enemy would mean he’d have to abandon all hope of leaving this place alive. However…“They’re nothing more than blurs in one’s cognition,” answered Aleister, not seeming to care. “Have you heard the story of Schrödinger’s cat? Well, it is the most famous tale of animal cruelty in the world.” “…?” “I shall spare you the details, but in essence, it implies that the nature of our reality is to distort itself to align with the thoughts of the one observing it. Though with the laws of physics of micro- and macroscopic scales being at odds with each other, it’s not a general rule.” This world consists of two different sets of laws of physics—one for microscopic sizes and the other for macroscopic ones. Just where did the “tiny” world end and the “huge” world start? Aleister told him that this problem was one of the things he researched. “…I am having difficulty understanding what you mean.” “You need not attempt to. If you did, I would be forced to kill you here,” Aleister answered him, still without a care. “…Though even I do not understand it. The existence of Deep Blood is more than likely a mere trifle, just like the cat inside the box.” Aleister explained that an esper was like a piece of litmus paper that had changed color. Rather than being overjoyed at a piece of red litmus paper changing color to blue, they would ask: Why does the color change at all, what makes it happen, and furthermore, can it be manipulated? Even with the power of 2.3 million espers at their disposal, and despite that potentially being enough to take on the entire world, this person was actually claiming that it was all just a means to an end. Stiyl felt himself shiver. The person in front of him was a human who would assert that there is no reason for a human to do what a machine can. But just what exactly was machine… …and what was human to this man? “However…,” the human said, visible to all males and females, adults and children, and saints and sinners, making a face that looked like a smile. “Well, then. If Deep Blood proves the existence of vampires, then I wonder, just what does Imagine Breaker prove?” 2 What’s up with this? wondered Kamijou in bafflement. He was currently in the completely full nonsmoking area on the second floor of a fast-food restaurant. He was sitting at a four-person table in the corner by the window with Index and Blue Hair. Right, I’ve got that much. “—I ate too much.” And, for some reason, there was a shrine maiden slumped over the table at this vulgar place, and moreover, she had flung these mysterious words at him…?! The priestess was around his age. With the standard red-and-white outfit combined with black hair reaching down to her waist, she looked like the mold from which other shrine maidens were created. “…” “…” The air felt odd, like the inside of an elevator. As Kamijou was working out what to do next, he suddenly realized that Index and Blue Hair were staring at him in unison. “…Wh-what?” “…C’mon, Kami. She’s talkin’ to you, so go ahead and answer her!” “…That’s right, yeah. Touma, it’s wrong to judge a book by its cover. ‘The hand of God’s salvation extends to all humankind,’ right? Amen.” “…What, no! That’s stupid! This is where we play rock-paper-scissors for it! Wait, Index, you already assumed I’d lose, didn’t you? Quit making that docile face and crossing yourself!” With all this, they decided that whoever lost the game of rock-paper-scissors would be sacrificed. Rock, rock, then scissors—Kamijou was the only loser. In conclusion, Touma Kamijou did indeed have rotten luck. He held his scissors out there by themselves, still in disbelief. For now he attempted an “Umm, excuse me?” to the shrine maiden facedown on the table. Her shoulders gave a start. He made up his mind that he’d bring up a safe topic first. “Uh, err…what do you mean, you ‘binged’?” After all, this was a shrine maiden talking. She probably wanted someone to hear her out, right? “I had a lot of discount coupons. One hamburger for fifty-eight yen.” “Uh-huh.” With no memories to speak of, Kamijou was oblivious to what a hamburger tasted like. He did have knowledge, though, and it explained that it was an emergency food meant for those low on cash and that it was just a flat piece of meat and some wilted lettuce in a bun. “So I figured I’d ask for thirty to start with.” “That’s too much of a saving, stupid.” He shot back on reflex. Right then, the shrine maiden ceased any and all movement. Her silence tipped him off to a somber aura emanating from her body, like she had been very hurt by it. Well, that was embarrassing. I think she actually took it seriously. Wow, this is really embarrassing. “Ah, no, I didn’t mean it like that. What I meant to say was, ‘That’s stupid, but why would you do something like that?’ but I was trying to move the conversation along smoothly, so it ended up sounding rude, and, well, you know, sounding rude is a sign of affection, and definitely not one of malice, and also, public service announcement to the nun and the blue-haired guy, I’d like to see you outside for a moment later, quit looking at me like that!!” Kamijou ended with a wail, unable to stand the silence any longer. “I ate my emotions.” She made this declaration abruptly, deathly still. “Huh?” “The return train fare. It’s four hundred yen.” The heap of shrine maiden replied, sighing. Kamijou forced himself to absorb her words. Though he didn’t remember ever having been on a train, he did possess the knowledge that the train and bus fare in Academy City was expensive. “So, why did you splurge on hamburgers when you needed four hundred yen for the train back?” “Total possessions. Three hundred yen.” “…May I ask why?” “Bought too much. Didn’t plan ahead.” “…” “That’s why I stuffed myself.” The word stupid made its presence known in his throat again, but he just barely managed to force it back down. Instead, he chose his words carefully. “Wait, why didn’t you just ride the train with that three hundred yen? Then you would only have to walk for about one hundred yen’s worth. And besides, can’t you borrow the fare from someone?” “…Good plan.” “Why’re you looking straight at me? Wait, don’t point those hopeful eyes at me!!” Kamijou leaned backward, startled, as if trying to distance himself from the priestess. To make matters worse, he had spent a whole 3,600 yen on that (useless) reference book. On top of that, he had bought three milk shakes for Index to cheer her back up. It was honestly an inconvenience to spend any more, even if it was just one hundred yen. But aside from that… The shrine maiden was showing her face for the first time since they arrived. Contrary to his expectations, she was extremely good-looking. She had the white skin of a Japanese person, in contrast to the foreigner’s skin color Index had. Her darkly colored eyes and hair made it stand out even more. Her eyes looked sleepy and devoid of energy, but in return, he couldn’t feel any aggressiveness from her. She seemed strangely openhearted, even, like it would be safe to get as near to her as he wanted. Then… “…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………” …Index was glaring at him quietly, and… “Th-this can’t be real. Kami’s talkin’ to a girl…He’s talkin’ normally to a girl he just met! It can’t be!” …Blue Hair was raising his voice in terrible slander for some reason. “Shut up, you blue-haired, pierced 2-D lover! Public service announcement, please come to the gymnasium later! Also, shrine maiden, supply yourself with the one hundred yen you need and then go home immediately! That’s all, briefing over!” “What is this? Kami, I’m not done talking, man! You’ve been part of the proven and trusted unpopular loser squad for sixteen freakin’ years, but in just two weeks you’ve gotten to know people with strong characteristics like a nun and a shrine maiden! What’s goin’ on?! Huh? Is this some kinda dating sim, Teach?!” Blue Hair was deranged and half-crying over something or other, and Kamijou really wanted to give him a good right straight to shut him up. Unfortunately, he was located diagonally across the table, so he was too far away. His rotten luck had even determined the seating arrangement. “One hundred yen,” stated the shrine maiden. She had a difficult expression, like she was worrying about something, and then she raised her face. “No?” “No. I can’t lend you what I don’t have.” “…” She deliberated on this for a moment. “…Tsk. Can’t even lend one hundred yen.” “…You’re the one not even carrying one hundred yen, stupid,” responded Kamijou hotly. “Kamiiii, how can you answer her so casually? You’re a member of the proven and trusted unpopular loser squad! When faced with a beauty like this, you should be totally nervous and not even able to give her an answer! As a member of the loser squad, it’s your destiny!!” Blue Hair sounded like he was struggling to crawl up out of the depths of hell. “…Beauty.” The priestess’s gaze wandered strangely, thinking about something. Then she went, “…For this beauty. Another one hundred yen.” “Argh! Be quiet, you evil woman! A witch who uses her face to get money is not called a beauty! Besides, I already had to buy three milk shakes for no good reason, so I don’t have any money left!” “Th-thank God, Kami! You still believe that all beautiful women have kind hearts, so can I take that to mean your two-dimensional nature is still alive?!” “…Wait, Touma. If you didn’t buy these milk shakes, you’d just hand over one hundred yen and everything would be fine…Is that what you want to say? Hmmm.” The voices flying at Kamijou from all directions were approaching the upper limit of what his brain could deal with at one time. Aw, jeez, where do I even start?! he wondered frantically, scratching his head. Index, chomping on the straw of her milk shake with enmity, shot the shrine maiden an inimical gaze. “Hmph. From your red hakama, I can see you’re of the Urabe style. Do Urabe priestesses even use their looks to get by? You know, I think ‘shrine maiden’ used to be slang for ‘prostitute’ during the Heian period.” Kamijou couldn’t help but sputter at that one. For now, he figured he’d get Blue Hair to shut up. He seemed to be extremely excited; his eyes were practically shouting, “Aha-ha! This is great! A battle between a western nun and an eastern shrine maiden!” “Actually. I’m not a shrine maiden.” “Huh?” Everyone at the table stopped and stared at the black-haired girl. She looked like the picture that would be in an encyclopedia under the entry for shrine maiden. “Umm, if you’re not a shrine maiden, then who and what are you, miss?” asked Kamijou, like he was somehow the group leader. “I’m a magician.” “…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………” The table fell silent. He started to hear the television broadcasts in the restaurant coming from miles away. Wait, what? thought Kamijou. I’ve got amnesia, but for some strange reason, I feel like this has happened before. That’s what it feels like. But why is Index shaking like that, is she about to explode?! he shouted to himself. Bang! Index passionately slammed the table with both hands. Before the milk shakes on the tray could spin around and fall over, she demanded, “What do you mean by ‘magician’?! Caballa?! Enoch?! A Hermeticist?! Some kind of modern astrologer subscribing to the visions of Mercury?! Magician is way too vague! You’re supposed to introduce yourself with your specialty, school, magic name, and order name, stupid!” “???” “If you didn’t even understand any of that, then you mustn’t call yourself a sorcerer! Besides, you’re an Urabe-style shrine maiden, right? At least brag about being an Asian yin-yang astrologer or something!” “Okay. Then I’m that.” “What?! What the heck is that supposed to mean?!” Bang! Bang! Index hit the table a couple more times. Kamijou sighed and took a look about. The restaurant was bustling with activity, but Index’s fit of rage was a bit too much. He needed to settle her down and fast. “Okay, fine, the shrine maiden is actually a magician. We get it, so quiet down for a sec—” “Wha—?! Touma, you acted kind of totally differently for me!” Index glowered at him like she was about to bite off his head. Unfortunately, without any memories, he couldn’t remember what happened in his past. He couldn’t just say he didn’t recall it, even if she was wrong. “She said it herself, so isn’t that enough? Jeez. She’s not doing any harm to anyone, and she’s not trying to trick us, so leave it alone.” “…Urgh. You’re the one who went to the extent of taking off my clothes to prove I was the real thing.” “Huh?” “Nothing! I didn’t say anything, and I’m not thinking anything!” Index jerked her head away from him in a huff. It didn’t matter, but under the table, his foot was being smashed into the floor by something. Okay, it did matter. There was only one culprit here, no matter how you thought about it. “Ah…” Suddenly, Index grunted, like she had spotted something. At first, he wondered if it was an employee finally deciding to walk over to give them the red card and kick them out for making such an uproar. Huh?…People? The moment he questioned it, he finally caught on to the fact that approximately ten people had surrounded their table. “……………” Why didn’t I see them until now?! he puzzled. Even though there were ten strong staring at them intently at a distance a waitress might stand at to take their orders, all crowded around their one table, he hadn’t been able to notice they were there. And… Even now, he saw that not a single other customer in this packed restaurant had even realized anything was wrong. In other words, they had concealed their presence just that much, like assassins. “…” Each one of them wore the same suit, and they were all males in their twenties or thirties. They would have lacked individuality to the point you wouldn’t be able to tell their faces or names apart in a train station at peak hours. However, their eyes were without emotion. In return, their perfect lack of individuality made it seem like it should be impossible for them to melt into the background like this. Eyes without…emotion? he thought, swearing he’d seen this before. He returned his gaze to the table… …and to the shrine maiden in front of him, whose name he didn’t even know. She had been surrounded by almost ten people, and yet her eyes were without emotion as well. “One hundred more yen,” she said. She rose from her seat without a sound. She didn’t look like she was on her guard against them. In fact, she displayed the ease of someone waiting for another to come. One of them took a step back to yield the way to the priestess. One of them took a hundred-yen coin from the palm of his hand and handed it to her, silently and dutifully. “Eh, um, what? Do you know these people?” Kamijou asked in bewilderment. “…” The shrine maiden let her eyes wander for a bit, like she was considering her next words. “Yes. My cram school teachers.” Her reply was abrupt and without concern. She walked down the hallway and headed for the stairs leading to the first floor. The men followed, her shadows and her protectors, without a noise or a voice. He began to hear the familiar bustle and noise of the music on the television from miles away, as if it had faded. Once they had gone out of sight, Blue Hair finally spoke. “But why are her salaryman cram school teachers lookin’ after her? It ain’t like she’s an elementary schooler or anything.” 3 Summer’s evening glow was upon them. Kamijou and the others goofed off for a while and tired themselves out to forget all about the mysterious shrine maiden and the men in suits. Then, like little kids, they made the decision to go home at the five o’clock chime, and they upheld it. “Bye-bye!” called Blue Hair, waving his arm in the air to them—indeed like a little kid—before disappearing into the city gleaming in the sunset. Blue Hair didn’t live in a student dormitory like Kamijou. Instead, he led the relatively uncommon lifestyle of boarding at a bread shop. Apparently, the uniform used by its employees looked like a maid outfit. He and Index were left alone in the wide street next to the station, in front of a line of large department stores. He sighed. The moment the words left alone popped up in the back of his mind, some kind of tingling, nervous feeling reached out from the center of his brain, went down his back, and reached into every nook and cranny in his body. The reason was obvious. “Touma, is something the matter?” The girl beside him was innocently smiling at him. He had no choice but to answer that nothing was wrong. He breathed another sigh, this time quietly enough that she wouldn’t hear him. After all, they were living together. Secretly, in a male dormitory. To top it all off, she was such a little girl. A few days had passed since they returned to the dorms from the hospital, and whenever night came around, Index would lay down and sleep next to him as if it were the natural thing to do. And she never slept well, either. Maybe she couldn’t stand the heat, but she would toss and turn all night long, causing her feet, navel, and other things to pop in and out of her pajamas. Kamijou had no recourse but to lock himself into the room’s unit bath and cause a shut-in incident for a while. This is why he’d been sleep deprived lately. “…Was I a terrible enough person to be on the news?” he grumbled to himself tiredly. He wondered about how exactly the old Kamijou had handled this “phenomenon.” But wait, the Kamijou that had my memories was the source of us being roommates in the first place! What the hell were you doing at a time I wouldn’t remember, Touma Kamijou?! he silently shouted at himself. “Ah!” Index noticed something and ground to a halt. “Eh?” Kamijou gloomily followed her gaze. At the foot of the pillar of a wind turbine, there was a kitten in a cardboard box, crying out with mewing sounds. “Touma, it’s a—” “No.” —cat. He cut her off before she could continue. “…Touma, I haven’t said anything yet, okay?” “We’re not taking it.” “Why not, how come? Why, why? Why can’t we adopt Sphinx?!” “We live in a student dorm, pets are forbidden, and we don’t have money, and why did you already give it a name, and why the heck did you call it Sphinx when it’s clearly a noisy Japanese calico?!” <“Why don’t you keep a cat! Do as you are told!”> “???…Hah! Blabbering in English isn’t going to make me listen to you!” “No! I want it, I want it, I want it, I want it, I want it, I want it, I want iiiit!” “We’re not taking it, even if you shout like you’re doing some Stand attack I’ve never seen before! Besides, you scared it away already! It just ran into the alley!” “It’s your fault, Touma!” “Why me?!” Graah! The two of them stood there in the summer evening, yelling at each other angrily. Kamijou vaguely thought about this. He asked himself how the Touma Kamijou before his amnesia treated this girl. He came to the conclusion that it was probably something like what he was doing now. He was happy with that. But at the same time, it felt a little lonely. After all, she wasn’t looking at him. The soothing, relaxing, splendid smile she would give him was for the old Touma Kamijou. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt. But he still didn’t think of giving up on the act. “Hmph. Japanese shamisens are made from binding cat skin, aren’t they? Why does this country do so many horrible things to cats!” “…Don’t start insulting our national culture, stupid! Besides, you British people all chase around foxes and bully the poor things!” “Wha…? Foxhunting is a proud national tradition, and—!!” Index was about to growl at him, but all of a sudden, she froze, like she just noticed something. “Wh-what is it? The cat? Did that cat from before come back?!” Kamijou demanded, looking around. He didn’t see anything like a cat anywhere, though. “…I wonder? Touma, it looks like the flow of mana nearby is being controlled,” Index murmured abruptly to him. “…Its attribute is earth, and its color is green. This spell…It uses the ground as a medium for mana, and by interfering with one’s awareness, it…” It sounded like her internal musings were coming out of her mouth as broken phrases. “What is it?” inquired Kamijou, looking at her carefully. After a moment, Index breathed one word: “Runes?” Then her eyes shone as sharply as the edge of a knife. She ran vigorously to the roadside, toward an alley between two buildings. “Wa—Hey, Index!” “Seems like someone set up a magic circle. I’ll go check it out, you can go home first!” Before he could blink, she disappeared into the alley. “I can go home first…?” Her weird actions sure do stand out, he thought. However, he certainly couldn’t just leave her to her own devices and go home. After all, a young girl had just gone into a suspicious-looking back alley by herself. The encounter rate with some incident in a place like that was probably about the same as a poorly made RPG. He groaned. His rotten luck was making trouble again. He was about to follow her in, but then— “It’s good to see you again, Touma Kamijou.” A voice came from behind him. His feet had started for the alley, but he needed to stop them. After all, he had heard, “See you again.” Those words were pretty much taboo for Kamijou. He hadn’t forgotten knowledge like how to speak Japanese or how to do first-grade math. However, his memories were another story. When did he buy that video game? What were his final exam grades? Those kinds of memories were all gone without a trace. When faced with someone he didn’t remember in the slightest, claiming that they were seeing each other again, the only thing he could do was respond with the greatest Japanese smile he could manage. Because to protect the wishes of a certain girl… …Touma Kamijou must never make anyone aware that he lost his memories. He turned around. “Um.” As expected, he didn’t have any recollection of the man there. Actually, he was a young man—a boy, even. The word boy seemed a little off, though, given his towering stature of more than two meters tall. Like Index, the man had pale skin that couldn’t have belonged to someone Japanese. He was clad in a jet-black habit. The smell of perfume wafting from this “priest” was over the top, though. His long hair was dyed scarlet, he wore earrings in his ears, he had a silver ring on each of his fingers, and under his right eye, he had a tattoo that looked like a bar code. It all felt corrupt, like he was a priest of war or a religious traitor. There was no reason Kamijou should have recognized him. In fact, he didn’t really want to have memories of a man like him. “Hmph. It’s been a while, but you don’t even want to greet me, eh? Right, right, that’s fine. That’s how our relationship should be. Just because we fought together one time doesn’t mean you can let your guard down.” Despite that being what the perfume-stinking priest said, he was smiling quite amicably. Who the heck is this guy…? The strangeness of the priest in front of him was one thing, but he felt stronger confusion at the old Touma Kamijou being acquainted with a person this suspicious. And he had something else on his mind. Kamijou quickly glanced around toward the alleyway. Index had dove straight in all by herself. He didn’t have the time to spare chatting it up with a totally unknown wannabe priest, but… “Oh, don’t worry about the girl. I’ve engraved Opila runes in that area. She probably just went to locate the flow of mana.” Kamijou didn’t know what to say. Rune magic. Magical Celtic symbols dating back to the second century. Simply put, they were characters that held power, so if you wrote “Kenaz” on a piece of paper, then just as the word entailed, flame would spring forth from it. …What is this? His throat tightened. Not because the priest in front of him was talking about this enigmatic runic magic. But because that enigmatic knowledge was flowing freely out of his own mind, and it didn’t even feel out of place. It was clearly bizarre. It was an odd sentiment, like a rusty bike dropping into the middle of a clean, pure lake, leaving a gaping hole in its wake. Right alongside extremely commonplace knowledge like “you cross the street at a green light” or “it costs money every time you send a text message on a cell phone” was an…abnormality where magical nonsense was mixed in with his everyday life as if it was natural! The Touma Kamijou before he lost his memories… Just what kind of world did he live in? For the first time since it happened, Touma Kamijou shuddered at his own situation. “Hmm?” The priest reeking of cologne shut one eye and grinned slightly like he had noticed something in the color of his face. Kamijou didn’t know what was going on. He didn’t have time to spare having a conversation with someone, so for the moment, he smiled vaguely and tried to force back the peculiar feeling. Suddenly, the red-haired priest took out what looked like a single card. “Don’t smile at everything. Are you ready to die?” The red-haired priest’s grin grew wide, as if it were melting across the face of a waxen puppet. He shook. The knowledge inside Kamijou from before his amnesia was warning him of danger, like it sent electricity through him. “…” His right hand moved before he could think about it. He immediately positioned it in front of his face. As it blocked the sunlight pouring into his eyes, a flame burst forth from the palm of the priest’s right hand. Like gasoline had erupted from his hand, he created a shining sword of crimson fire in the blink of an eye. The priest didn’t waste a second. He didn’t show a shard of hesitation nor a trace of mercy as he swung the flame sword down mightily toward Kamijou’s face. When the fiery sword made contact it expanded, and flames shot out in all directions like a balloon popping. The fire made a brutal noise as it absorbed oxygen. The hellfire, more than 3,000 degrees Celsius, whirled out and utterly violated their surroundings. Roar! went the flame, its strength unceasing. Whoosh…went the flame going out. It was like it had been frozen and smashed in the blink of an eye. “Hah…hah…!” Without letting down his right hand he was using for defense, he started breathing raggedly and rapidly. The Imagine Breaker. The aberrant ability he knew nothing about that dwelled in his right hand was said to be able to cancel out any irregular power just by touching it, even if it was the power of a miracle. “Hah…hah…!” After seeing Kamijou stiff, trembling, and unable to move properly, the priest finally smiled in satisfaction. “That’s it, that’s the face. This is the relationship between Touma Kamijou and Stiyl Magnus, right? Don’t make me say it again—if you let your guard down just because we fought together one time, you’ll be in trouble.” The priest’s smile ripped across his face again, melting it, stretching it out. But Kamijou was unable to answer. It wasn’t because he was afraid of the unnatural power his body contained, much less of the priest he was facing down, Stiyl Magnus. Yes, if it was one thing, it was this: His own knowledge, his common sense. It had stopped the attack out of reflex, without thinking much at all, and as if it was the obvious solution…even though some crazy flame sword or something had been swung at him. That was scary. “Wh…at, are—” Kamijou promptly took two, three steps back. His knowledge—the old Touma Kamijou—had warned him of the threat to his life. I don’t have time to deal with the enemy within, Kamijou thought. Right now I have to do something about the enemy without. “—you trying to do, asshole?!” Kamijou roared, lowering himself steadily into an unconventional fighting position, a stance so used to brawling it even surprised him. Maybe it was thanks to the knowledge soaked into him, too. In response, the sorcerer in priest clothing smirked. “Hm? I just want to tell you a secret, why?” What is he saying? wondered Kamijou…But as he did, Stiyl removed some kind of big envelope from his clothing. It was large and seemed like really important documents were inside. Is he seriously telling me a secret here? Kamijou frowned. He wanted to tell him a secret here, on this six-lane road wide enough to be an airplane runway, after causing a racket with all those explosions…? …? Once he thought that far, he finally realized it. Even though that explosion had made noise, there was absolutely no sign of commotion. …?! No, he thought a step later, looking squarely at the reality. It wasn’t that there was no commotion. There was nobody here in the first place. This six-lane road, with big department stores lined up on the left and right, had emptied of both people and cars without him noticing. No one but he and Stiyl were there. The clatter-clatter of the wind turbine propellers resounded throughout the uninhabited street like the sound of a laughing skull. From extremely far away, he noticed he could hear the sound of a warning siren reaching him from an equally uninhabited railroad crossing. The silence was like the middle of a lake at night. “I already said—” Quietly breaking that silence, Stiyl smirked. “—I engraved runes for Opila, and it’s been keeping people away. “Ehwaz,” came Stiyl’s voice. He flung the oversize packet he was holding from his index finger like he was flicking a postcard. The thick envelope spun around and around like a Frisbee and slowed as it settled into Kamijou’s hands. A strange symbol was inscribed on the mouth of the envelope like it was some kind of seal. Stiyl muttered. “Gebo.” Suddenly, the symbol on the envelope lit up. The seal split to the sides as if cut with a knife. “Have you heard of a cram school called Misawa?” Stiyl asked in a singsong voice. The necessary documents flew out of the envelope, and each indeed appeared to have a rune inscribed on it. They floated together in the air before Kamijou’s eyes like a flying carpet. “Misawa…?” Touma Kamijou had amnesia. Having precisely zero memories, he could only draw conclusions from the knowledge he had. However, he still didn’t have any recollection of a Misawa Cram School. It seemed like the old Touma wasn’t too interested in taking university exams. “At the least, it’s apparently the prep school with the most market shares in the nation, but…?” Stiyl made the suggestion disinterestedly. A prep school was, as its name suggested, a school for preparing for exams. Think of them as cram schools meant for the “wandering students” who had failed university entrance exams. In Academy City, the definition of a university preparatory school was a bit more contrived. It could also refer to a prep school made for people who were good enough to get into a university, but who would purposely become wandering students for a year in order to advance to an even better university and study for its exams instead. One of the documents flew nimbly up to Kamijou’s eyes. It seemed that this Misawa Cram School was both that kind of university preparatory school and it had students who weren’t yet wandering. In other words, it also acted as a prep school for normal high schoolers trying to take entrance exams in their senior year. “…So, what do you want with this Misawa Cram School? Do you get a discount on your student fees if you refer a friend or something?” Kamijou looked at Stiyl with clear distrust; the priest in front of him seemed a bit removed from the concept of prep schools. “Ah, well—” Stiyl answered in a bored voice. “—there’s a girl being held captive there. It’s my job to go and get her out.” Kamijou stared at him, speechless. Not at the bothersome words being held captive. He was doubting this man’s sanity. No, wait, if Stiyl was simply insane, there wouldn’t be a problem. Except there was, because he had the power to freely control magical flamethrowers. “Hmph. I think you’ll figure it out if you take a look at the documents.” Stiyl poked his index finger up again. One after another, more sheets of copy paper flew out of the envelope Kamijou was holding, and like a blizzard they danced around Kamijou and surrounded him. This one was a sketched map of Misawa Cram School. However, there were apparently inconsistencies when compared to a full-scale map measured externally via infrared and ultrasonic waves. There were clearly crooked, hidden rooms in various places on the image, looking like leaves nibbled on by a worm. This one was a list of its electricity utilization expenses. However, the cost didn’t add up when all the rooms and electrical appliances were accounted for. Someone somewhere in the building was clearly using a large amount of electricity, away from prying eyes. This one was a checklist of people entering and leaving the school. However, a very large amount of food was being bought in bulk, even considering all the students and teachers. Even if you dressed up like a garbage-collecting janitor and investigated all of the trash cans, the quantity wouldn’t add up. It was clearly being eaten by somebody in the building. And the final sheet. One month before now, a single girl was witnessed entering the Misawa School building. As far as her student dormitory caretakers could tell, she hadn’t returned to her room since then. “It seems like the school has turned into a new religion centered on scientific worship,” said Stiyl disinterestedly. Scientific worship…? Kamijou frowned in puzzlement. “Oh, you mean like those guys who think God is really an alien that came here in a UFO, or like the people who are trying to clone the DNA of saints or what?” The idea that science and religion don’t mix is illogical. There were plenty of followers of Crossism among doctors and scientists in the western world. At the same time, though, it was true that scientific religions with their backs against the wall caused horrible incidents. After all, they possessed cutting-edge technology. Formulating poison gas or bombs would be simple for them. Academy City, which was both a place on the leading edge of technology and a place for learning and teaching, was particularly cautious of these scientific religions. This was because, of course, it was an environment for teaching things. Even a small slipup in this regard could transform a teaching establishment into a brainwashing factory. “Well, we don’t know what it is they’re teaching. And honestly, I don’t care a bit about what sort of cult Misawa Cram School has been perverted into. It’s already been flopped, after all.” “…?” “To be frank,” Stiyl spat, “the school’s been hijacked. A science-crazy scam religion has been hijacked by a genuine, bona fide sorcerer—well, by an alchemist of the Zurich school.” “A bona fide…?” “Yeah, even as a sorcerer, it sounds dubious…Hey, wait a second.” “What is it?” “…Aren’t you being a little too understanding? You’re not just letting everything go in one ear and out the other just because you come from a different field, right?” Kamijou froze. Not because what Stiyl said hit the mark or anything. Kamijou had been listening to him urgently and seriously, and he was trying to break down words he didn’t understand so he could take everything in honestly. But that’s where he felt strange. He felt like the sorcerer had pointed out a gap between the Touma Kamijou now and the Touma Kamijou then. Don’t let him realize, don’t let him realize…! The Touma Kamijou right now didn’t know anything about the relationship between the sorcerer in front of him and that girl. But he didn’t want anyone to know about his amnesia, no matter who it was. Kamijou had seen it. He had seen it in the hospital room. He had seen the girl wearing the white habit on the verge of tears. He had seen her face of salvation after he made her think the man in front of her was the same Kamijou. He couldn’t bring himself to destroy that salvation. So Kamijou would trick the world. He’d even try and lie to himself. “Tsk. I try listening seriously one time, and this is what I get? What are you, a masochist? Is that it? Are you the type that can’t stand it unless someone interrupts your conversation over and over again?” But the Touma Kamijou now didn’t really understand how he was different from the Touma Kamijou then. When you’re walking along a road with a map and realize that you’ve gone astray, and then you look around and get a 360-degree view of a desert, you don’t know which direction you should go. Stiyl stared at Kamijou doubtfully for a moment, but replied. “Well, whatever. I have no problem with the discussion proceeding smoothly.” Finally, he collected himself and returned to the topic at hand. “The things that are important are the reasons the alchemist had for hijacking the school. Well, one of them is obvious—he was probably thinking he could reuse the school’s original fortresslike systems. Most of the students, or followers, haven’t even realized that the head of the principal—or guru—changed. “But…” Stiyl drew in a breath. “The alchemist’s original goal is Deep Blood, who was being held captive by Misawa Cram School.” Deep Blood? Kamijou didn’t remember that name, and he didn’t appear to have any knowledge of it. But the meaning hidden behind those words was incredibly ominous. “It seems that she was originally confined there so they could make her act like a shrine maiden. Well, I suppose they’re drawing out the high levels using a girl as a pretext, so the term ‘shrine maiden’ is actually fitting.” “…” “The point is, the alchemists had been aiming for Deep Blood for some time, but the school was one step ahead of them. Why, it must have been quite a nuisance. Their plan was to steal Deep Blood secretly and flee the city, but then the school made a bold move and ruined everything.” “In other words, they forcefully stole the credit back from the school…?” So it’s like…If a master thief was about to break into a museum after extremely thorough preparations, and then as he was about to steal the painting, the entire museum was suddenly taken over by super-flashy terrorists? Is that it? The barbaric terrorists wouldn’t know the value of art. If the master thief was able to protect that painting from the terrorists, the museum would end up under siege by the police. He wouldn’t have any alternative, and he would have to barricade the entrances and hole up in there…Something like that? “Yeah. Acquiring it would be the highest aspiration for an alchemist.…No, if we’re going that far, then it would be the greatest wish of all sorcerers. Or perhaps that of all humanity maybe.” “???” Kamijou gave him a blank expression. “Deep Blood is an ability meant for killing a certain creature. Well, that’s not all it is. It’s also the one and only chance at capturing one of those creatures alive, even though we don’t know if they exist.” He still didn’t understand. “In our jargon, these creatures are called the ‘descendants of Cain,’ so.” Stiyl grinned a little, and then made a declaration, conspiratorially this time. “Putting it simply, I’m talking about vampires.” “Are you serious?” That was the first thing he thought of to say when he heard the words coming out of Stiyl’s mouth. Vampires. Kamijou didn’t know where the legends originated, but he knew a bit about them from video games and manga. Vampires were weak to crosses and sunlight. Vampires die when stakes are driven through their hearts. Vampires turn into ash when they die. Vampires turn other people into vampires by biting them. …That was about all he knew. And for some reason, the manga and video games in Kamijou’s knowledge were, without exception, the punk-action variety where the slightest respect wasn’t paid to the cross. However, Stiyl grimaced and averted his gaze, saying, “…Things were happy and easy when we could still joke about it.” Despite the sorcerer being able to control flame like that, he almost seemed afraid. “Hmph. Deep Blood is a power for killing vampires. Since that exists, it wouldn’t make sense unless those vampires also existed. It’s like that vicious cycle where a villain is required for someone to be a hero of justice, but anyway, this one thing is definitely true.…Even I’d deny it if I could.” “…Wait, what’s that mean? Are you saying those vampires from picture books actually exist?” Kamijou’s brain denied it. But for all his rejection, this man was giving off an air that was far too grave. “No one has ever seen one…” Stiyl Magnus sang, as if he was a big ball of confidence. “…because anyone who does, dies.” “…” “Of course, even I won’t believe this blindly. No one has seen one, and yet the existence of Deep Blood proves them. That’s the problem. We don’t know how strong they are, or how many there are, or where they are. We don’t know, we don’t know anything. And we can’t do anything about something we don’t understand.” Stiyl repeated like he was singing, but Kamijou couldn’t process the word vampire, so he wasn’t really getting the sense they were real. Well, I guess it’s like trying to take on unseen terrorists scattered around the world, he translated for himself. “But for everything we don’t know about, there are also unknown possibilities.” Stiyl grinned cynically. “Touma Kamijou, have you ever heard the term Sephirothic Tree—No, I suppose you wouldn’t have.” “…You know, you’re not gonna get on my nerves by saying stuff like that.” “Fine. The Sephirothic Tree is a hierarchical diagram that displays the spiritual rank of God, angels, and humans. In a few words, it tells you things like where a human can ascend to if one trains hard enough, while anything past that is unattainable.” “…Look at you, belittling people like that. What are you trying to say?” “Did that get to you? What I want to say is that there is a height that humans cannot reach, no matter how hard they try. But human nature is to want to reach it anyway. Sorcerers exist precisely because of that. So what should we do?” Stiyl’s cynical grin widened across his face like it was tearing it in half. “It’s simple. We just have to borrow the power of something inhuman.” Kamijou couldn’t say anything. “Vampires are immortal, after all. Even if you were to gouge out one’s heart and implant it in a magic sword, it would keep living. I guess it would be kind of like a living magic item?” Stiyl explained. “Whether or not it’s true doesn’t matter. Scholars will try it if there’s even the slightest possibility,” he growled. In other words, this is what Stiyl was trying to say. It didn’t matter whether or not vampires actually existed. What was important was that there were people who would cause trouble because they believed in them. And now that an incident had occurred, someone had to resolve it. That was the important part. “So then we still don’t really know if vampires exist?” He felt like there were a ton of action flicks with people going around fighting over ancient treasures they were uncertain of. But when presented with this in real life, he couldn’t think of a more stupid story. “It’s originally our job to handle occult things whose existence is uncertain, so.” However, Stiyl flashed a bitter grin. “Both Misawa Cram School and our alchemist seem serious, you know? They’re seriously playing a game over these vampires. Someone like Deep Blood is necessary because they need a trump card.” “…” “And do you know Deep Blood’s background? The kid apparently used to live in a mountain village in Kyoto, but the village was wiped out one day. The last reported villager was apparently deranged, saying that he was going to be killed by a monster. After that, the story is that people who rode out to the village found it deserted save for a single girl, standing there alone, and white ash, blowing around like a blizzard and blanketing the village.” Ash. Vampires turn into ash when they die. “I mean, vampires are things we’re not sure exist, after all. But think about it. Deep Blood is the power to kill vampires. Therefore, Deep Blood must first meet a vampire. If one wishes to encounter a vampire, regardless of how pure one’s intentions were, the best thing to do would be to first gain control over Deep Blood, right?…Of course, I think actually controlling the owner of a power immense enough to kill vampires would be a big problem in itself.” This conversation might as well have been taking place on an alien planet at this point. Kamijou’s instincts informed him that it would be dangerous to hear him out any longer. I feel like if I listen to this guy anymore, it’s gonna screw with my common sense real fast. He even got the distinct feeling that the conversation proceeding like this would mess things up beyond the point of no return. He quickly asked a question so he could cut the conversation short. “So, you’ve been talking about all these secrets for a while now, but what exactly did you need to tell me?” “Ah, right. Neither of us has much time, so let’s finish up here.” Stiyl nodded twice to himself, pleased. “…Well, frankly, I’m in a situation where I must go raid Misawa Cram School now and get Deep Blood out of there.” “Okay,” nodded Kamijou easily. However… “I wish you wouldn’t nod so easily. You’re coming along, too.” …………………………………………………………………………………………………… “Huh?! What did you just say?!” “The simple truth. Oh, and that before was the briefing. You remember everything we talked about, right? As for the documents, they have Kenaz runes on ’em, so they’ll burn up after you finish reading them. You’ll get yourself into trouble if you slack off on memorizing them.” “Wha—?!” Is this some kind of joke?! he thought. This Stiyl person wouldn’t hesitate to kill a man, and he had the most suitable power to do it. If Kamijou snuck into the headquarters of this enemy “alchemist” or whatever the hell it was, he could end up getting involved in a murder incident. “Oh, and one more thing,” said Stiyl in an emotionless voice. “I don’t think you have the right to refuse. If you don’t obey, things will move in the direction of my taking Index away from you.” “!” Crunch. For some reason, he could almost hear those words stabbing into his heart. His knowledge—the remnant of the old Touma Kamijou—was terrified of something. “The job Necessarius has handed down to you is to be her leash, to prevent her from turning traitor, since her ‘collar’ was removed. But if you don’t obey the will of the Church, then they can’t trust that to work.” Stiyl sighed. “But, well, personally, if the Church considers you unnecessary, then it helps me out. I’d be grateful, even. Thank you! Because a leash that doesn’t work means nothing. I would be able to recover her with no worries.” That was a threat. Blackmail that the girl close by him would be harmed if he didn’t obey. “…” Thump. His own pulse violently pounded on his heart like it was a hammer driving a nail. Touma Kamijou had no memories. Even if the old him was the one who met that girl for the first time, it didn’t have anything to do with him now. His heartbeat was acting up, and he was losing the ability to think. It must have been because of what remained in him from before his amnesia. It shouldn’t have been related to him now at all. So then… Why? “…Are you freaking serious, asshole?” Why could he have so much faith that the fury he felt was justified? He wondered about it. He had certainly met Index before he lost his memories. The Kamijou who Index trusted and smiled at wasn’t the Kamijou who was here now. But he thought that was okay. The girl he had met in that white hospital room had looked at the wounded Kamijou and cried… If it would prevent her tears, then… He swore to uphold his lie, even if he had to fool the world and deceive himself…! “…Hmph.” Stiyl looked away, disinterested. His face looked like someone whose job had been stolen. Kamijou would be lying if he said it wasn’t weird. “If it’s killing each other that you want, then let’s leave it until we deal with the alchemist lurking in Misawa Cram School. Also, I forgot to mention something. Deep Blood’s real name is Aisa Himegami. There’s a photo of her in there, so make sure you know what she looks like. You’d be at a loss if you didn’t know the face of the person you were trying to rescue.” A single photograph slid down out of the envelope. Supported by Stiyl’s runes as well, it fluttered through the air and came to a stop right in front of Kamijou’s face. He looked at it. He thought about what the face of Deep Blood, an esper with such a dangerous-sounding name, looked like. And there was the face of the shrine maiden he had met this afternoon. “Huh…?” Kamijou caught his breath. The picture looked like a blown-up student ID photograph or something. It was definitely the face of Aisa Himegami, the priestess from this afternoon. Kamijou remembered what Stiyl had said. “It seems that she was originally confined there so they could make her act like a shrine maiden.” Kamijou remembered what the girl from this afternoon had said. “Actually. I’m not a shrine maiden.” Kamijou remembered what the sorcerer had said. “There’s a girl being held captive there. It’s my job to go and get her out.” Kamijou remembered what Aisa Himegami had said. “Yes. My cram school teachers.” “…!” But why…, he thought. From what Stiyl had said, Aisa Himegami would have been imprisoned in the school. If that shrine maiden was Deep Blood, then why on earth was she hanging out in a fast-food restaurant, passed out from overeating? “The return fare. It’s four hundred yen.” Could she have been running away? he asked himself. She was supposed to be locked up, so if she was outside, then she must have been fleeing from Misawa. “Total possessions. Three hundred yen.” Thinking of that brought him to Himegami’s lack of money on hand. She had hurried to escape with only the clothes on her back. If she continued to take public transportation like trains and buses, her money would obviously run low. But then why was she in a fast-food restaurant? he thought. If she had run out of there like hell, what reason could she have had for relaxing in a place like— “I stuffed myself.” “Ah!” Suddenly, Kamijou remembered her saying that. What if her money had already run out, and she couldn’t flee any longer? What if she was just trying to have one last good time at the end? She had said she wanted to borrow one hundred more yen. Was that because she had a chance of getting away for good if she only had one hundred more yen? That’s why…Her one and only wish. Who was the moron who ruined it for her? “That’s why I stuffed myself.” “Damn…it…” On top of that, Himegami hadn’t shown any resistance at all when she was hemmed in by the teachers from her cram school. She obviously must have wanted to resist. She had run in desperation away from the school, so she couldn’t have been okay with being brought back like that. The first thing a normal person would do is run away. If running away alone wasn’t going to work, then they would ask another person for help. But… Asking someone for help would have meant getting them wrapped up in trouble. “Goddamn it…!!” He was angry. He was so angry he could barely think. Angry at the Misawa Cram School for imprisoning a girl like some sort of object, angry at the alchemists who had come to snatch her away, and angry at Stiyl who had said Deep Blood was a trump card to put a collar on vampires. But the thing he was the most mad about was that Aisa Himegami had ignored her own well-being to protect him. Because that was wrong. If Kamijou had paid her just one hundred yen, it could have changed her whole life. But she chose to be dragged back to the school in order to save him, the one who destroyed her last hope. That was wrong. He hadn’t the faintest idea what kind of new age religion it was. But she was just one girl. He couldn’t imagine what kind of treatment she was getting, imprisoned somewhere like that. He didn’t want to imagine it, either. Kamijou should have been the one to feel that pain. Why did you go and— Kamijou bit his lip. He tasted blood clinging to his front teeth. —put someone in your debt like that?! That was what made him the angriest when he thought about it. His head felt like it would boil over just because of it. There were no “memories” in Kamijou. But that way of life…The belief that it was okay to be treated as an object by everything around you…The pattern of thinking that said there was true happiness in saving others while disregarding your own pain… The lone girl suffered for the sake of others and smiled anyway. Before… He had a feeling he had met a girl like that before, and he got frustrated with himself for not being able to remember it. There was no way he wouldn’t go and save her. Because he felt like…He had to punch Aisa Himegami hard once for all the selfish things she’d done. INTERLUDE ONE A girl was standing in an ocean of ashes. It happened ten years ago. The First Lancers, one of the thirteen knight brigades of English Puritanism, departed for a mission to “inspect the enemy headquarters faster than anyone else” in accordance with its founding principles. This time, the designated “enemy headquarters” was a small village on an eastern island nation, in the mountains of Kyoto. Their routine mission was to determine the identity of abnormally inflated mana flows, and if there was malicious intent behind one, to eliminate it. Six hours after all communications from the mountain village in Kyoto had ceased… Three hours after the police officers who went to check on it went missing… Everyone knew the village in question here was probably already completely destroyed. At the same time, however, that wasn’t anything extraordinary. In England was the British Museum, or the Arsenal—a blood altar onto which the divine treasures pillaged from all over the world were gathered. Compared to the angered ancient kings who dwelled in those treasures turning against their captors, the danger level was low. Their provided equipment was light as well, including only the usual Surgical Armor and cross lances, without even any Longinus replicas. A sacred suit of armor, the Surgical Armor could direct mana throughout itself and heighten the wearer’s mobility by twenty times. It could be called a first-class Soul Arm, but it was clear to everyone that the big shots involved didn’t feel any sort of threat from this situation. But even that was but a trifle. There was something to bother them. Something like this had been in the final message of a survivor who had used a telephone: “Pl—se, he—. That thin—isn’t huma—it’s a—.” No one believed, of course. Even the higher-ups in the Church didn’t treat it as true, which is why they hadn’t given them decent equipment. But a somehow unpleasant, heavy pressure was growing in every member of the First Lancers, which had a long record of service. The creature. Though there were at least old records remaining in the British National Library, no one had ever seen this particular creature, and the very concept of capturing one was nonexistent. Why had the presence of this uncertain creature been denied until today? The answer to that was the clear reason for the pressure they felt themselves under. It was because the world would have ended long ago if a being like that existed. It wasn’t this creature’s physical strength that was scary. If an enemy’s physical strength is unmatchable, humans will use something other than physical strength to defeat it. That’s why humans had created many different kinds of tools, weapons, and armaments. It wasn’t this creature’s immortality that was scary. If an enemy doesn’t die when killed, then one just had to find a way to defeat it without killing it—for example, by imprisoning it below the permafrost of Antarctica or by dismantling its invulnerable body into two hundred pieces and bottling it up. These things weren’t the problem. The problem was the vast amount of mana these creatures were implied to possess. Mana, in terms of sorcery, could be compared to simple gasoline. You would refine the crude oil in your body—your life span and life force—into gasoline that was easier to use. Humans possess only a limited life span to begin with, so the difference between someone with strong and weak magical power was nothing more than whether the person was good or bad at this refinement. However, that didn’t apply to these creatures. The life span and life force that acted as their crude oil was on a fundamentally different level. No, not on a different level—their life force was literally infinite. Naturally, this also created a difference in the magic they can use. There is no way that a handgun with a limited number of bullets can rival an uncountable number of missiles attacking you. Therefore, the First Lancers laughed off their unease but were unable to wipe it away completely. And when they pushed their way through the vegetation and arrived at the mountain village left behind by the ages, what they saw crushed their hearts in a death grip. Pure white ashes as far as the eye could see. A blizzard of white ash was raging in the eastern village left behind by the ages. The roofs of the houses, the soil of the paddies, and the slender farm roads were all covered in a thin, thin layer of ash. Ash. Was it…the remains of that creature? However, that wasn’t what surprised them. If they were remains, there were enough for more than just ten or twenty, but even that couldn’t stand up to the scene before them. In the center of the tempest stood a single girl. If they were to guess at her age, she must have been no more than five or six, and she had the black hair characteristic of Asians. But despite seeing her sweet face, the very souls of the knights who came to destroy the heresy were frozen. Even those creatures plaguing the village had been annihilated and turned into an ashen maelstrom… But despite being in this hell, the girl didn’t have a scratch on her. The wind danced, and the ashes fluttered. As if there was a sanctuary surrounding her, the ashes didn’t come close to her, despite the turmoil storming about and burying the mountain-encircled village. It was as if the ashes, though dead, were avoiding her out of fear. “I—” said the girl… “—I killed again, didn’t I?” …in a voice as though this was normal for her.