A Certain Magical Index, Vol. 7 (8 page)

The sun set and night came.

But it didn’t come quietly. Agnes, in her black nun’s habit, was busy shouting to the other similarly dressed sisters in another language, giving commands and pointing every which way. She was also writing something in a small book with a quill pen at an incredible speed. Index told Kamijou it was like a telephone call: When she wrote in that book, the letters would apparently show up in a book somewhere else. He thought privately that it was more like a text message than a phone call.

A brigade in black—probably the regular sisters of the Roman Orthodox Church—was heading into the sewers via the triangular hole left by Orsola’s kidnappers. Another group spread open a map and began to draw lines in red ink, also with feather pens. He couldn’t tell whether they were designating escape routes or giving directions for the search or their security net.

On this busy, bustling night, Kamijou, Index, and Stiyl were stiffly standing apart from the others. Kamijou couldn’t speak a foreign language (and no, he didn’t even know
which
foreign language they were speaking in), so he couldn’t participate in the conversation. Index and Stiyl were keeping quiet. If they said anything careless, it
could spark chaos among the Roman Orthodox sisters—they were part of a different chain of command.

Remembering how hungry he was little by little, Kamijou spoke up. “Hey, why did Index and I get called out here, anyway? The Roman Orthodox people are doing everything that needs to be done. We’re just sitting here bored—is there a reason we’re still here?”

“…Well, our reinforcements should be arriving somewhat soon. What are those knights doing?” Stiyl said bitterly, blowing out some cigarette smoke. “Also, this incident requires our power. Well, more accurately,
her
power.”

Her
must have meant Index. “Hers?”

“Yeah. This all has to do with a grimoire. And not just any grimoire—the original copy of the
Book of the Law
.”

In place of Stiyl, who said so in a relatively self-absorbed fashion (meaning he had no desire to explain), Index summed it up in simple terms for him.

According to her, the
Book of the Law
was a grimoire written in a code that nobody in the world could decipher. Its contents were very valuable; anyone who could decipher it would gain vast power. And now a girl had appeared who had finally come up with a way to decode the supposedly indecipherable grimoire.

Because of that, both the
Book of the Law
and Orsola Aquinas, the girl who could decipher it, had been taken from the Roman Orthodox Church by the Amakusa-Style Crossist Church.

The one he had met already was Orsola, and it seemed that she had fled during the chaotic battles between Amakusa and Roman Orthodoxy, which involved her being kidnapped and rescued over and over. And they speculated the reason they didn’t know where the
Book of the Law
was, was because it was in Amakusa’s hands at the moment.

Amakusa-Style
…
Amakusa?

Kamijou tilted his head—he’d heard that name before.

But anyway.

“Nobody can decipher it, huh? Not even you, Index?”

“No! I’ve tried to, but it’s not written in normal code.”

“Hey. Is this
unreadable grimoire
really that valuable? I mean, nobody’s read it, so couldn’t it just be scribbles inside?”

“It could be,” Index agreed simply. But the fact that she didn’t get angry made her seem relaxed, like an adult admonishing a child—as though he were an ignorant amateur meddling in a professional’s business.

Stiyl spat out his now-short cigarette and crushed it with his foot.

“The techniques written in the
Book of the Law
are simply too powerful—it’s said that using them would declare the end of the entire Crossist-dominated world. It has a pretty interesting history. We don’t even
want
to confirm whether it’s truth or fiction—if it’s sealed up, then obviously we’d rather leave it alone. After all, according to one theory, it lets you use angelic techniques beyond the comprehension of man.”

Kamijou froze upon hearing those words.

“An…angelic?”

“Yes? Perhaps that’s a little fanciful for an unbeliever like you to imagine.”

Stiyl sounded like he was ridiculing him, but he was wrong.

Kamijou knew. He knew the meaning behind the word
angel
. He knew what the angel called Power of God had done. That spell it had used on one seashore that summer night—the one that had instantly covered the entire sky in a vortex of enormous magic circles. He knew of the “miracle” that could reduce half the world to ashes. And even that was probably nothing more than a fraction of the kind of techniques angels used.

Giving that to a person, to be used at will?

He gulped. “But…still, if nobody’s ever decoded it before, then it might not even be real,” he said.

Index’s head bobbed up and down. “Yep. But when it comes to the
Book of the Law
, it probably
is
, Touma. The sorcerer who strove to pen it is legendary at this point. It’s so high-level it could even appear in the New Testament. He was only active around seventy years ago, but it wouldn’t be going too far to say he rewrote whole millennia of sorcerous history. About twenty percent of sorcerers in today’s
world are his followers and imitators. And something like
fifty
percent of them are affected by him in some way. He was the real deal.” Her words were serious, and Kamijou found himself unable to carelessly get a word in. “I think the
Book of the Law
is real. I wouldn’t even be surprised if it was even crazier than the rumors, either.”

A few sisters in black ran by them.

After a few seconds, Kamijou finally spoke up. “Umm…Who is
he
?”

“Edward Alexander. He’s also known as Crowley. He’s buried in a graveyard in the English countryside now.” Stiyl lit a new cigarette. “In a word, he is recorded as the
worst
human in history. In one experiment during his travels, he used his wife, who had been traveling around the world with him, as a vessel so he could contact the guardian angel Aiwass. And when his daughter Lilith died, he used her to construct a theory of magic without twitching an eyebrow. And he apparently sacrificed girls the same age as his daughter in
that
experiment…However, his accomplishments
did
lead to new definitions of other worlds—overlapping planes in different layers than our world, such as the celestial and demonic planes—and revolutionized sorcery at the time.”

Stiyl adjusted his position because the wind had changed direction. It looked like he didn’t want the smoke to go toward Index, but instead it ended up coming straight to Kamijou. He coughed hard, and Stiyl gave a truly evil smile, bellowing smoke out of his mouth like a fire-breathing monster. “Well, the many stories about him, good and bad, just and evil, big and small, are well-known to sorcerers. It’s the same for the
Book of the Law
. When he lost his way, he would perform bibliomancy with the
Book of the Law
and choose his original path from its contents. In other words, it has the turning points of the world’s greatest sorcerer—it is a grimoire holding the reins of modern western magic history as a whole. It would be wise to consider that it has quite a history attached, yes?” Stiyl clicked his tongue as if his own words tired him.

The Roman Orthodox sisters who had passed by them earlier
returned, going the other way. One held a giant cog one meter across as she ran—was it used as a weapon or for some other purpose?—and she made a slightly disgusted face at the smell of cigarette smoke.

“Wait, so if you’re sure it’s such a crazy book, why not just get rid of it? It’s a book, right? Just burn it or something.”

“You can’t burn grimoires. Especially not original copies. The letters, phrases, and sentences written within use the flow of energy within the earth as a power source to convert to magical code and turn into an automatic magic circle. So just sealing one away is the best we can do.” Index smiled vaguely. “But if I dug the original out of my memories and wrote a copy of it, it wouldn’t do anything like that.”

“You still need someone’s mana, even if it’s weak, to activate an automatic magical circle like that. The
writer’s own mana
is used as the starter to rev up the engine, basically. Most sorcerers writing a grimoire don’t even notice that their mana is being inscribed along with the characters they write. You wouldn’t be able to avoid it even if you knew—it happens no matter what kind of writing utensils or paper you’re using. But she doesn’t have the power to temper her life force and create mana, so that wouldn’t be a problem. Most suitable for one who manages a library, wouldn’t you say?…Though the fact that this state of affairs was deliberate is
quite
displeasing.”

“Hmm. Is that right, Index?”

“Uh, huh? Starter? What does
rev up
mean?”

Index was the one he was looking to for more explanation, but she looked the most confused of all.

Stiyl faithfully tried to explain what the words
rev up
and
starter
meant. (For some reason, he looked a little happy about it.) Kamijou watched him out of the corner of his eye and grimaced to himself.

He hadn’t thought this was such a big deal at first. Until a few moments ago, he had figured that as long as they rescued Orsola, everything would work out.

But now that didn’t seem to be the case.

He knew what an angel was. He knew about the technique used by
Misha Kreutzev, the Power of God, that could burn down half the planet.

He knew what a sorcerer was. Those he had met so far didn’t show mercy or hold back. They would set to work achieving their goals using all the power at their disposal.

What if one of those sorcerers got ahold of the angel skills from the
Book of the Law
?

Shit
…

Index said that original copies of grimoires couldn’t be burned.

She said the reason was that the book itself would turn into an automatic magic circle.

But if Kamijou used his right hand…

If he used the Imagine Breaker inside it, then maybe…

This is the worst. It doesn’t look like I can get off this ride while it’s still going!

Finally finished giving orders in a foreign language, Agnes walked over to Kamijou and the others, her short skirt fluttering in the breeze. Her strangely high platform sandals made
clip-clop
noises when she stepped, like horse’s hooves.

Kamijou winced to himself. She was a little younger than Index, but magic types didn’t seem to care much about seniority. He could tell that much just by seeing the strange nuns from English Puritanism and Russian Catholicism (well, in the latter case, he only had Misha’s outward appearance to go by). On top of that, until a few moments ago, she had been coolly flinging orders in some other language directly to dozens, and through indirect communication with hundreds more.

But
his
problem was less how self-important she seemed and more the foreign language part. His mental situation could be summed up in one sentence as “How to deal with foreign languages you can’t speak: If she talks to you, your only choice is spirited, high-speed body language!!”

Agnes was on her way over, ready to attempt a culture exchange in
a different language at any second. He held his head up straight and steeled himself for a beautiful interpretive dance, when…

“Ah, erm, I…If you don’t mind, I now would like to start explaining the current situation, so are you all quite prepared, mayhap, pray tell?”

“…”

Bam!
It was Japanese.

What the heck?
he thought.
She may be unique, but this is
…

The Roman Orthodox sister was holding herself somewhat tightly. She wobbled uncertainly, and her face was bright red.
I see—it doesn’t matter where you go, people are always nervous about foreigners fast-talking them.
He nodded to himself, oddly convinced. Agnes continued. “I-I’m sorry. I seem to be somewhat nervous speakin’ Japanese poorly around actual Japanese people. Ah, could I use a different language? One apart from both of our cultural spheres, if you don’t mind, like, preferably maybe Avar, or a Berber language…”

She spoke super fast. Index said something in a foreign language that was probably along the lines of “calm down and take deep breaths!” He glanced over to see Stiyl looking down darkly, saying, “Well, you’re not the only one I know who uses strange Japanese,” an explanation nobody was really asking for.

Agnes placed a hand on her flat chest and took a few deep breaths. She was forcibly trying to suppress her agitation. And despite probably being used to wearing the thirty-centimeter platform sandals, her feet wobbled like a drunk, helped along by her nervousness.

But she was still trying to carry out her duty, so she straightened right up and said, “I apologize. I shall start again. In terms of our current and future actions, we—Hyaa?!”

Before she could finish speaking, Agnes, who had forced herself to stand up straight despite her quivering feet, completely lost her balance and toppled over backward. “Wah, wah!” Her hands swam through the air as if she were grasping at straws, and then one latched on to Kamijou’s hand.

“Whoa?!”

She fell to the ground, dragging him down with her. Unable to take the fall gracefully because of the suddenness, he slammed onto the asphalt. He attempted to writhe in pain (in relative seriousness) when he suddenly realized there was a piece of cloth fluttering above his head.

It was Agnes’s skirt.

When he brought his face up, he saw a paradise spread out a few centimeters away from his nose.

Wha, whawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawhawha?!

The moment the scared Kamijou panicked and tried to pull his neck out, Agnes finally got a grip on the situation. She gave a shrill “Eek?!” and pushed her hands down onto her skirt with all her might to hold it down. It was an action that she’d taken in defense, of course, but she ended up slamming his head down so he couldn’t pull it out of her skirt.