A Certain Magical Index, Vol. 7 (15 page)

“However,” she continued, “that is with current technology. If the
original text is a kind of magic circle, then by appending characters and phrases to certain places to break the magic circle, like using a lever to switch rails on a train track, one should be able to use the magic circle against itself—in other words, to force the original text to destroy itself.” And at the end, she said clearly,

“The power of grimoires doesn’t bring anyone happiness. The only thing they create is conflict. That’s why I was investigating its inner workings—in order to destroy these kinds of grimoires.”

Kamijou looked at Orsola again.

She had worked out a method to decode the
Book of the Law
, so he had thought her mind was swimming with eagerness to obtain the book’s power—but it was actually the exact opposite. She wanted to rob the book of its dangerous powers—that’s the only reason she researched grimoires.

He felt very slightly relieved at that, and then—

—there was a dull
bang
!

In front of the shop—near the viewing course
, he thought. But before he could stand up in a hurry, something came into sight.

Whoosh
—something was dancing in the night sky. It looked like a person.

It was a priest, with red hair and black clothing.

“St…Stiyl?!”

Before Kamijou could say anything, Stiyl Magnus fell quickly toward the ground.

He crashed straight into the ground on his back, ruining the low shrubbery that had been concealing them. There were cuts all over his clothing, made by a bladed object, and blood was dripping from his skin.

There was a loud noise in front of the shop, and he got blown all the way here—did he come over all that?!

As Kamijou imagined the unimaginable, Stiyl, on the ground, said, “Damn…it. Touma…Kamijou? What are you doing? Run away, now!!”

No sooner had he thought
Huh?
than the two side walls of the shop he had his back to began to swell outward like a living being.

“?!” In front of Kamijou, who couldn’t understand what was happening, almost as if a killer whale were piercing the ocean surface and jumping, the shop walls smashed into a thousand pieces and someone jumped out. Behind the person, the building collapsed, its supports gone. Pieces of the building as thick as a human arm came clattering down right next to him—but he didn’t move a muscle.

In fact, he was smiling.

The man had a slender build, and yet he was wearing a T-shirt and jeans that didn’t fit him—they were so big a sumo wrestler could have worn them. He looked like he was in his mid-twenties. There were red crosses on his T-shirt’s white fabric, centered on his right arm. His hair looked like it had been intentionally spiked up with gel or something, but the most striking feature was its color. It was overwhelmingly black. His hair, which was probably black already and then dyed black, had an odd, beetle-like luster. The laces on his basketball shoes were abnormally long—more than a meter. With laces that length, Kamijou didn’t think you would trip over them even if you mistakenly stepped on them because of how much leeway you had. There was a necklace around his neck that looked like a leather strap, and four or five ten-centimeter-long battery-powered fans hung from it.

His fashion sense was strange, and Kamijou couldn’t quite tell what he was going for. But of course, the most inexplicable thing about him was what he was holding in his right hand.

A flamberge.

A two-handed French sword from the seventeenth century more than 180 centimeters in length. The undulations on the surface of the blade were its main characteristic—the curves were made to make wounds larger. Originally they were metal, or, if they were being used ceremonially, made of beaten gold. But this blade was pure white. It was like a plastic model one step away from completion. Maybe he had shaved a dinosaur bone down to use for it, or maybe it was a unique cluster of carbon—or maybe an aerospace material.

Kamijou was a simple high school student, so he couldn’t make
the guess just by looking at it a little. At the very least, though, it didn’t look like metal. The large sword didn’t fit with modern society no matter how you looked at it, but this man was holding it lightly with one hand.

“Heh-heh. What are you doin’, mister Puritan priest? Come on—where’d your pride as an English gentleman go? Show it to me—show it to Saiji Tatemiya. Man, you wouldn’t even be able to protect one girl like this.”

Stiyl swore bitterly under his breath and took out rune cards.

He wasn’t looking at the danger in front of him, this man with the sword.

He was looking beyond that—at a single sister in white, standing ready on the viewing course on the other side of the destroyed shop. Her fate was his top priority.

“Did you fight this whole time while protecting her…?” muttered Kamijou absently.

Stiyl’s sorcery was like a game where you had to secure control points. He could only use powerful magic in places he had his rune cards hung up. For someone like him, this battle was something to be avoided. If he had to fight while moving the whole time, he wouldn’t have time for his control-point-securing game. And if he had to fight in that situation while protecting Index on top of that, he had no choice but to literally use anything, even his body, as a shield.

“Don’t…waste time thinking about things you don’t need to,” said Stiyl in a voice like he was going to spit up blood. “…All right, we’ve got Orsola Aquinas secured. As always, I can’t tell whether that luck of yours is good or bad…Anyway, now we just need to make an opening and escape. We don’t need to defeat that guy—if we can get away, we’ll win.”

Stiyl tried to stand up on his trembling feet, but he didn’t seem able to put much strength into them. Saiji Tatemiya watched him merrily for a moment, then switched his gaze to Orsola.

“And why do we have to butt heads with each other at a time like this, anyway? I explained this about a million times. Orsola Aquinas…We have no intention of harming you.”

The one explaining spoke in a flimsy tone that didn’t seem to have much in the way of persuasive power. It even sounded like he was implying disappointment at his own subordinates for having let Orsola escape.

Orsola looked at the destroyed shop, the wounded Stiyl, and then Tatemiya’s flamberge, then said, “I am certainly aware that your words are filled with hope. However, I cannot have faith in peace gained through the use of weapons.”

“That’s a shame. I mean, it’s not like it will do you any good to go back to the Roman Orthodox.”

Tatemiya swung the sword in his right hand around a bit, as if checking his shoulders.

“…” Kamijou silently moved in front of Orsola to cover her.

He didn’t have a weapon. He couldn’t win against this opponent by swinging around something he was unfamiliar with. It would probably be better not to go with any weapon rather than a sword that was really heavy and he couldn’t use.

Tatemiya first looked at Kamijou’s face, then at the dress sword at his feet. “No martial arts stance, and no Soul Arm. And no magical symbols hidden in your clothes, either. Completely unarmed, in the purest sense of the word, eh? Hah, I didn’t intend to cross swords with an
amateur
, but…well, we can’t all have what we want. Did you steal that sword from Uragami?”

He was emitting a chilling, invisible pressure that seemed to be twisting and warping the outline of his body.

Kamijou didn’t recall any name like that, but… “If you mean your lackey, she’s sleeping over there. I made sure she didn’t hit the back of her head, though, so she’s alive.”

“…What, and that makes it all right? You makin’ fun of us or something?” Tatemiya’s tone now sounded anything but lighthearted. Kamijou felt like it gave him a glimpse of the man’s humanity.

His opponent wasn’t just a monster—he was a person who would get angry over the safety of a friend.

“Then if you’re still able to fight for someone else, could you please put that sword down? I don’t want to fight someone like you if I don’t have to.”

“Oh, sure, I’d be all for it, but we’ve got our own problems, y’see. Our main enemy might be the Roman Orthodox, but if you English Puritans are connected to this, then we can’t let you off the hook, either. Plus, we can’t give Orsola to anyone like that.”

Tatemiya swung his big, nearly six-foot sword lightly up in the air like a cheerleader baton before continuing. “That means you’re already a target, too. ’Course, if you drop to your knees right now and surrender, you won’t have to see any blood you don’t want to.” He was smiling, but his voice sounded apologetic. He probably predicted how Kamijou would answer before he even made the proposition.

Kamijou was scared, for sure. He knew what professional sorcerers were like. The ones who gave the most trouble were those who didn’t overestimate magic.

People with absolute power, like Aureolus’s alchemy, would only prepare one trump card. On the other hand, those without an excessive faith in trump cards, like Motoharu Tsuchimikado, would instead set up their hand with enough cards, countless cards, to make up for it.

Saiji clearly belonged to the second group. He could probably send Kamijou’s head flying with one sweep of that flamberge, even without using magic.

One look at his ability to take down Stiyl without suffering a single wound (protecting Index though the sorcerer may have been) spoke volumes of the man’s depth.

Kamijou shuddered—this wasn’t someone he could beat squarely. It was like telling a relatively quick-footed child to race an Olympic track-and-field athlete. Would it be better…to obey and surrender?

He couldn’t match the man’s skill, nor had he set anything up beforehand to get around that.

Still…

What would happen to Stiyl?

The priest, still bent over, was glaring at Tatemiya, his breathing ragged.

Stiyl had his own goals—and he was here because he believed they would do Index good. For him, failure just wasn’t an option.
Neither the hopeless reality nor any words Kamijou could give would be enough to hold Stiyl Magnus down.

And if Kamijou couldn’t stop him…

…then it was pretty evident what was waiting for him.

What would happen to Index?

Even now, the girl looked like she’d spring between Kamijou and Tatemiya given the slightest opportunity.

If Stiyl and Tatemiya clashed, if they exchanged blows even once, they wouldn’t be able to play the surrender card anymore. If it came to that, she’d probably do anything to let Kamijou, a sorcery amateur, escape. No matter how little strength they had—no matter how clear the gap in their power was—no matter how much Kamijou hoped against it.

And finally…

What would happen to Orsola?

The Roman Orthodox sister was uneasily glancing back and forth between Kamijou and Tatemiya.

Saiji Tatemiya desired the knowledge, the technique, the
power
that the
Book of the Law
possessed. So long as that was true, then Orsola wouldn’t be killed here. In fact, they would probably even make sure any stray bullets didn’t strike her.

But if Orsola were taken away from here, she’d be brought to Amakusa’s base. If she were to refuse to instruct them on the way to decode the
Book of the Law
, then it was pretty clear what would be in store for her.

Tatemiya and Amakusa weren’t looking for Orsola Aquinas herself, but rather the way to decipher the
Book of the Law
. He didn’t want to think about what would become of her after they got the information they needed.

“The way to read it—well, it’s more like the way to decode its encryption, but
…
”

—And she never even
wanted
the book’s power.

“It would not be wrong to say that I desired power from it.”

—And she was trying her hardest
not
to cause this to happen.

“One should be able to use the magic circle against itself—in other words, to force the original text to destroy itself.”

—These people smiling before him were scorning all her tireless efforts, ignoring her feelings, and trying to use her as a tool for their own greed.

“The power of grimoires doesn’t bring anyone happiness. The only thing they create is conflict. That’s why I was investigating its inner workings—in order to destroy these kinds of grimoires.”

Kamijou pushed the dress sword aside with his foot and took a step forward.

Whether it be unsightly or comical, Kamijou was the only one here who could clench his fist and stand up to them.

Did he have a reason to loosen those five tightened fingers?

“…Don’t look down on me,” said Kamijou lowly, putting even more force into his tightly gripped right fist.

Saiji Tatemiya, who had been watching him, gave a sigh that sounded sincerely regretful. “Those’re some eyes you’ve got there. Glaring at me like that’s gonna make me feel sorry for you. No, no, I’m seriously sorry about this. I know what I gotta do, but that straightforward response—it’s starting to make me not want to kill ya.”

Tatemiya shook his undulating flamberge lightly.

“But if you say so, then who am I to refuse? It’s your funeral.”

Right as those words left his mouth…

Kamijou heard the loud
bang
of an explosion. The sound of Tatemiya’s feet hitting the ground alone had explosive energy. Before Kamijou’s body could even freeze in tension, his opponent took his first step forward. One more step until his blade would reach.

When he saw the light glinting off the sword blade, conveying the man’s brute force, Kamijou’s mind was stunned, like a frog in a snake’s gaze.

He reflexively thought to cover his face with his hands, but that wouldn’t be nearly enough to protect him.

Gh, gah
…
! Don’t fear
…
just move!!
Kamijou commanded his quivering body in desperation and finally took his first step of a run. Not
backward but forward. Tatemiya saw Kamijou charge at him from a little bit to the right and actually gave a dubious expression. He probably couldn’t figure out why an amateur was jumping straight into his attack range.

“Hah!!”

Exhaling, Tatemiya brought his sword straight down over him like a bolt of lightning.

There was a roaring
crack
as it split the quiet night air.

A single, decisive attack meant to split Kamijou, speeding at him like a bullet, in two.

“…!”

This time, it wasn’t just a little bit—he devoted his entire body and jumped at a ninety-degree angle to the right. The giant blade cleaved through the droplets of sweat dancing in the air. Jumping in a way that completely ignored all of his momentum put a huge load on his ankles. Kamijou failed to land, lost his balance, and crashed into the back wall of a store beside them.

“Shh!!”

Then, Tatemiya, rotating his entire body, whipped his blade to the side in a straight horizontal sweep. But it seemed like he noticed it after he started the swing…that Kamijou, his back against the wall, was smiling fearlessly.

I can do this
…
!!

Kamijou crouched down as far as he possibly could.

He knew that if he fled to the side when his opponent brought the sword down, he’d normally follow up with a horizontal slash. Bringing the sword up again would have created an additional step.

With his body as low as he could get it, he charged Tatemiya, his face low enough that he could lick the ground. He didn’t need to think about anything but a horizontal slashing attack. Even if Tatemiya had tried to unleash a top-to-bottom one, he’d be a beat too late. If he did that, then Kamijou’s fist would reach him before he could swing his sword completely.

So Saiji Tatemiya had gone with a directly horizontal sweep, just as Kamijou had predicted from the beginning.

Kamijou let the sword graze right over his head, and though his heart was in the iron grip of terror…

“Woh…ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!” he shouted, clenched his fist, and lunged right into Tatemiya.

Even Orsola, his ally, gulped at his drive.

Right after Tatemiya swung his powerful, two-handed stroke, he couldn’t do anything about Kamijou’s fist…

And then… Saiji Tatemiya vanished.

Tatemiya had been right in front of him, but now he was about one meter back. And his sword, which had completed a horizontal strike, was somehow already prepared over his head.

It was like he had turned back time and redone it.

No—as if he had used an illusion or something to lure Touma Kamijou out.

“Ah…?—?!” A chill came over him, and he rolled to the side, when…

Roar!!
The vertical attack split the ground in two like a piece of paper being torn apart. Because of all the friction, the hollowed-out earth glowed orange like magma. No one could look at this and think it obeyed any physical laws.

Magic?—Then I’ll
…
!

He put energy into his right hand. If that sword was a magical article, then he might be able to destroy it by touching it with his right hand. So he went to thrust his fist toward the blade coming at him.

“No…! Don’t do it! Touma!!”

He just barely stopped his fist at Index’s shout. Defenselessly, he spotted the young girl thoughtlessly running out to him out of the corner of his eye.

No way…You mean it’s not magic?!

Tatemiya’s behavior.

That downward swing, so fast he couldn’t see it, and that powerful attack that had split the ground open.

Were all of those simply feats of strength? He shuddered.

“No, don’t! Index, don’t come over here!!” he shouted, but it didn’t sway her. Tatemiya’s blade severed even the sound as it swung down. Kamijou had figured an attack with his right hand would deal with this and hadn’t thought of any alternatives. And he didn’t have the time to anymore. His eyes ballooned as he watched the blade closing in on him.

“AOF, TMIL—ASTPGW, ATDSJ, TM! (An original flame, thy meaning is light—a sword to protect gentle warmth, and to deliver strict justice, to me!)”

At the same time as Stiyl’s shout, there was a
boom!!
as a flame sucked in oxygen and exploded. The flame sword he gripped sliced through the dark of night, and Tatemiya was forced to divert his attention to it for a moment.

“Shit!”

Meanwhile, as Tatemiya was facing to the right, Kamijou jumped the other way, barely managing to get out of range.

Or at least, he tried to.

Tatemiya, looking in the wrong direction, slid in the same direction Kamijou was running. His legs weren’t moving. It was an unnatural movement, as though he were slipping on ice.

Sor
…
cery
…
?!

Kamijou’s spine froze, and just then…

Swoosh!!
The sword whirled around like a tornado, going for a straight horizontal cut. Kamijou immediately ducked to try and avoid it…

…but
wham!!
came a heavy impact striking the evading Kamijou’s flank.

He looked carefully and saw a soccer ball–like object made of clear ice buried in his body. The instant he realized it, the ice ball disappeared strangely, like it was being painted over. Kamijou was sent flying into the ground by the ice attack and began to roll over.

—Let’s go back to when Kamijou had just clashed with Tatemiya.

The instant the young man looked like he would be killed, Index couldn’t help but start running.

So that’s
…
Amakusa
… Index shivered as she ran.

And though she shivered, she found herself in admiration.

The techniques Amakusa used were, in and of themselves, quite commonplace. At the very least, they weren’t flashy or unique and didn’t possess vast attack power—like Stiyl’s Innocentius or Aureolus’s Ars Magna.

However, they used that fact against itself.

Kaori Kanzaki’s wire technique, Seven Glints, stood out the most here. Amakusa’s basic strategy could be summed up with one word:
deceit
. If you thought it was a magic attack, it would just be a simple trick—and if you thought it was a trick, then real magic meant to kill would come at you.