A Certain Magical Index, Vol. 7 (26 page)

Agnes Sanctis, looking directly at him, saw it from over his shoulder.

Timidly, fearfully, she saw what was there.

The silhouettes entering through the Church of Matrimony’s entrance—they were not the subordinates familiar to her but the Index of Prohibited Books and Stiyl Magnus from English Puritanism, along with Saiji Tatemiya from Amakusa-Style Crossism cradling Orsola Aquinas in his arms, and behind him his colleagues.

And there was one more.

Standing beside Stiyl, a humanoid monster cloaked in orange flame.

Agnes did not know the identity of the monster.

If one who did saw it, they would have called it by this name:

The Witch-Hunter King, Innocentius.

A behemoth of fires blazing more than three thousand degrees Celsius. It was the last thing one would ever see, housed in a cycle of
explosion and rebirth. It melted and reduced to ash all attacks and obstacles to destroy its enemy. It was an attack spell of a battle-lover who held true to his belief that the best defense was a good offense.

However, even if one who knew of the technique had seen it, they still would have doubted their eyes.

It was no longer the ordinary Innocentius. Its flames were denser and its presence more intimidating. The waves of heat flooding from its body warped the air surrounding it, giving an illusion of countless transparent wings growing from the giant’s back.

“Cards used—four thousand three hundred,” said the red-haired priest lightly, as though singing. “Not so many, in terms of numbers…but still, Amakusa isn’t anything to shake a stick at. They made an even larger diagram using the rune cards’ positions, used the diagram to transform the magical meaning of the entire area, then converted the whole Church of Orsola into one enormous magic circle. Though we did exclude this building from its effective scope so his right hand wouldn’t interfere…A magic circle constructed with multiple layers, using every object here—I doubt I could learn such cheap tricks.” Stiyl gazed in satisfaction at the flames roaring mightily upward. “I had everyone help me place the cards. Well, it was already nearly completed—just needed them to fit the last pieces into the jigsaw puzzle, as it were. Oh, come to think of it, I haven’t introduced myself yet, have I? I’m not as good at making assaults on one place after another—I’m much better at creating a single point of control and defending it. Certain circumstances led me to desiring such sorcery.”

She could see outside through the wide-open doors. Magical flames littered the flat, flora-less, stone courtyard, and sisters in black habits were lying there as if to cover it up.

Their bodies didn’t appear to have been carbonized or badly burned.

The explosions they’d heard probably came from the flame monster. It had unleashed shock waves at the sisters and mowed them down dozens at a time.

Everyone who had fallen seemed only to be passed out.

There would have been barely one-fifth of all of the sisters who had been beaten into incapacitation. But perhaps that evidenced the destructive power of Innocentius—the sisters still holding their weapons had distanced themselves and were grinding their teeth. They must have seen that if they drew near without due caution, the explosive winds and flames would eat them alive.

“What did I tell you? We had a plan.” Kamijou smiled savagely. “They weren’t running all over the place to be decoys. They just needed to set up Stiyl’s secret weapon and put cards all over the church, that’s all…I don’t know how any of it works, though, since I’m no sorcerer myself.”

With the Imagine Breaker in Kamijou’s right hand, he couldn’t help with the work of spreading the runic cards. That’s why he shouldered the responsibility of going after Agnes alone. So that he wouldn’t destroy the runes—their true goal—he made Agnes misunderstand that he had gone for her, prepared to die, and having used everyone as decoys.

Even without the detailed explanation, Agnes seemed to have guessed the particulars.

As well as what she needed to do now.

Without falter, still hoisting her staff, she shouted to the sisters outside.

“What are you all doing?! We still have a decisive numbers advantage! These pests are insignificant before a combined attack!!”

She was right.

No matter how they looked at it, the numbers difference between the Roman Orthodox and Kamijou’s group was absolute. The only reason they were still alive was their scrambling to use all sorts of clever schemes. If they created an encirclement so they couldn’t escape then attacked all at once, they would easily win. However many dozens of sisters were slain in the process, more than a hundred more would march over their corpses and crush Kamijou and the others.

Stiyl, a professional sorcerer, was
not
engaging in killing—but that, too, was only because if he was slaughtering them, it would cause the sisters to panic, thus creating the danger of all of them
attacking, prepared for their own destruction…or that
should
have been why, anyway. Because with that kind of spell, it was more difficult
not
to kill the enemy.

And yet…

Despite the sisters having an overwhelming numerical advantage, they did not move.

“What are you…?!”

Agnes thought about yelling angrily at her subordinates for not understanding basic logic, but somewhere inside, she had realized it, too.

A doubt.

Though the sisters understood the logical thing to do, somewhere in their minds they couldn’t have faith in it. Should they fight or should they flee—their minds looked fixedly at the swaying scales before them. If even one of them moved, their group psychology would cause an immediate change in the flow.

Agnes Sanctis recalled the words of Orsola.

—Those people
…
they act on faith.

—How ugly the Roman Orthodox Church is compared to them.

“…That’s…pretty funny.”

She looked down, tightening her jaw so firmly her molars might break.

If the scales were settled in a precarious equilibrium, then she just needed to force them to tip. She would only crush the one before her, Kamijou, and show her superiority to them.

Even if she used the sisters to defeat Kamijou, it would not display an overwhelming dominance. But this was the same for Kamijou as well. If he clung to his friends to take down Agnes, he would be displaying his panic, his tension, his fear—and his inferiority. If he did that, the sisters’ minds would be freed from restraint and they would be upon them like an avalanche.

In other words, it was one on one.

Touma Kamijou in one corner, and Agnes Sanctis in the other.

More than three hundred people in all surrounded them, but they were exceedingly alone.

Five meters were between them.

He was, of course, within the angelic staff’s range. But it would easily be within his fist’s territory with a tiny bit of effort. It was fifty-fifty—in other words, the one whose attack reached first would gain the honor of delivering the final blow.

What
…
do I do
…
?

She edged back and forth, gauging the distance, but on her brow was a bead of sweat.

Would her attack hit first?

Don’t panic
, she told herself, swallowing those words down. A simple clenched fist was no match for the convenience of her Lotus Wand. If she read his next attack and made one full swing, she’d demolish this
civilian
in one fell swoop.

What do I do…What should…What
…
?

But was it all right for her to leave everything up to the safe way—the full swing? What if he dodged it? And worst of all, what if she misread him and put it in the wrong place? No, she should use many smaller, faster attacks as insurance, then make her swing once he had stopped. But what if those smaller attacks were insufficient to stop him—what if he just dove straight in anyway?

But, well, no—however, still…But nonetheless, that notwithstanding…

The negative sentences continued to pile up.

In the end, she couldn’t decide on how best to play her many trump cards.

The method
…
the timing, the weapon
…
the steps
…
what the hell do I choose?!

And in contrast…

In contrast, Touma Kamijou would not falter in using his own trump card. He already had all his force in the fist at his right, entrusting to it his entire life and not an iota less.

He had faith.

Faith that however much he was hurt, however close to death he tread…

Faith in the weapon he had, faith that the way he used his weapon
was correct, faith that he would doubtlessly see his weapon defeat the enemy, faith in that outlook, waiting for the beautiful, victorious future ahead.

Touma Kamijou had faith—and that’s why he could act.

“It’s over, Agnes,” he said without falter. “You’ve figured it out yourself, haven’t you? Your illusion of confidence—it was destroyed a long time ago.”

Stiyl plucked the cigarette out of his mouth and flung it carelessly to the side.

The orange light arced through the air out of the corner of their eyes, and the moment it hit the ground, it marked the start of the battle.

Bam!!
Fierce footsteps.

Touma Kamijou tightened his fist like a wrecking ball and launched toward Agnes without waver.

What…What should I
…
Ah, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh?!

Something in Agnes Sanctis’s mind burst open then.

The moment of their clash was nigh before her eyes now, and yet the swaying scales never, ever, ever, ever delivered a conclusion. Agnes, pressed to make a choice but without having a satisfying answer, swung her staff with all her might, her face almost looking like she was about to cry.

One who bet everything on one last attack—and one who hesitated at that moment about what to bet.

The superior of the two did not need to be said.

Ger-slam!!
A fierce impact.

Agnes’s body flew into the air, grazed the marble pillar behind her, and plunged to the floor.

The heavy impact tore the angelic staff from her hands. As her body bounced many meters away across the floor, the wind all came out of her and she finally stopped moving.

Then she lost consciousness.

With that, the balance between Index, Stiyl, and the others and
the Roman Orthodox sisters surrounding them had tipped all the way to one side. One of the sisters, convinced they couldn’t win, dropped her weapon to her feet—and then the sound of another, and yet another came, until finally it was like a torrent of noise.

The battle was over.

The fist of a single boy had laid low an enemy numbering more than two hundred.

Kamijou hadn’t sustained as much damage as he’d thought.

His spotty memory started to force hazy blurbs together.

He knew he had collapsed in the Church of Matrimony, and that Index had shouted and run over to him; he remembered being in an ambulance; he remembered there being a bunch of time with special response or documentation or something; he remembered being diverted and brought into Academy City instead. He had promptly passed out when the frog-faced doctor looked at him, and he had awakened from his sleep on a soft, fluffy bed.

Same hospital as usual, huh? Ugh, damn it, I can tell just by how the room smells
…, he thought, eyes closed and mind foggy, before suddenly realizing someone was nearby. A quiet breathing and slight rubbing of clothing reached his ears. He felt a warm, soft hand lightly stroking his bangs.

“Tsuchimikado got a good laugh out of it…”

He heard someone’s voice.

“…but I still think this is fine.”

Her tone sounded a little reluctant, as though parting with him. The hand stroking his bangs stopped without a noise and retreated from his head. The warmth of her palm faded.

Kamijou managed to slowly open his profusely heavy eyelids.

“Hm…Kanzaki?”

“Oh, did I wake you? I was just about to get going.”

Kanzaki pulled back just a little bit in surprise at hearing his voice. It seemed she’d been sitting in the pipe chair for visitors beside the bed until now, looking at him.

He sat up in the bed and shook his head to shake off his sleepiness.

It looked like it was dawn. The fluorescent lights in the dark hospital room were off, and the glow of the morning sky filtered in through his window like the sunlight through leaves. On the small table next to his bed was an expensive-looking box of candy and a note she must have planned on leaving for him. As Kamijou’s eyes drifted around, Kanzaki slowly stood up from the chair. She must not have been planning to stay long.

“…Oh…”

Kamijou hazily started getting his mind’s gears in motion. He looked at Kanzaki again—she was wearing her usual outfit, a short-sleeved T-shirt tied at her waist so you could see her navel and jeans with one leg cut off so you could see her thigh. Her shirt being tied like that accentuated her already large chest, and you could see dangerously far up her thigh, up to where it started—
sexy as usual
, he thought, but he knew he’d be punched in the face if he said it out loud. He turned his attention to something else, eyeing the note on the side table.

“For now, you left a note…?”

As soon as he said it,
bwshh!
Kanzaki’s hand shot out at a terrible speed and snatched away the small scrap of paper. It was an impossible new record by sports engineering principles. Her face turned bright red and her eyes wandered to and fro, and she started to sweat as she crushed the note up with extreme speed.

“I-it was nothing much. Now that I have the chance to talk to you directly, leaving a note is unnecessary, right?”

“??? But—”

“It is fine already. It would have been embarrassing the moment I saw you read it.”

Kanzaki went to throw the balled-up note into the trash can, but then changed her mind and stuffed it into her pocket instead.
She must really not want anyone to read that
, he thought, baffled. She put a hand to her abundant chest, took a deep breath, and her expression returned to normal.