Toaru Majutsu no Index:GT Volume9 Prologue
Prologue: Battle of the Best – Zenith_of_the_Magic.[edit]
Everything had been off-kilter from the start.
When he was engulfed by the world of the dark side, Kamijou never would have escaped with his life if not for Alice Anotherbible’s assistance.
The Transcendents had a power different again from the Magic Gods.
By the time he even heard the name of their Bridge Builders Cabal, they had already driven Shibuya, Tokyo, to the brink of destruction.
The clash between the Bologna Succubus and Aradia was like a manmade disaster.
Despite their great power, the Bridge Builders Cabal made no attempt to hide their presence.
They even built themselves a consulate within Academy City.
Good, Old Mary and H. T. Trismegistus began a clash between Transcendents, but even that was surpassed by Alice Anotherbible’s punishment. Kamijou fought to put a stop to Alice’s rampage and parted ways with her.
Then the full force of the Bridge Builders Cabal took action to execute Anna Sprengel for her betrayal.
They created the Shrink Drink spear which borrowed a portion of Alice’s power.
Execution expert Mut Thebes was dispatched.
Mut Thebes was defeated at the last moment, but the Shrink Drink still struck Anna Sprengel. Not even Good, Old Mary’s resurrection could save her.
Only one option remained.
Since Alice had imbued the Shrink Drink with her power, only she could remove its effects.
But before that could happen, the reborn CRC – Christian Rosencreutz – killed Alice Anotherbible in a single blow.
Kamijou Touma and Aradia, witch goddess of the night and the moon, were on their way to bring doomed Anna Sprengel to Alice and they still did not know the deep despair their optimism was leading them toward.
“I see.”
The young man with silver hair, a silver beard, and a red robe – Christian Rosencreutz – held something that reflected the light.
It was a single transparent card. It was a crystal jigsaw puzzle of a world map, with the shape and number of its pieces in constant flux.
There were as many scattered legends about CRC as there were stars in the sky, but this was one of them.
It was said Rosencreutz had completed a perfect miniature model of the world and, by accurately recreating any and all phenomena in that miniature garden, he held all things relating to the world’s past, present, and future.
“To think so many trivialities have developed while this old man wasn’t watching. Heh heh. Then I should assume the thread of fate has again begun to weave its strange connections between myself and some unknown human.”
With that said, Rosencreutz casually tossed the incredible crystal world map over his shoulder. Once he had lost interest, he would readily discard even a spiritual item of that level.
But that did not mean the silver young man was taking things lightly.
All sound was cut off.
The light could not reach him.
It only took a middle finger.
Not a single word was uttered.
Anna Kingsford held her open palm to her mouth and blew gently on the tip of the middle finger.
Roar!!
That was all it took for a blaze easily outdoing a flamethrower to rush out. And this was not just any fire. It fed on the power of a ley line and stole vitality from space itself. This overwhelming mass of light and heat was wielded for no other purpose than to take lives. Anyone who tried to survive it using simple composite armor or special fibers would dry up and burn away in less than a second.
Aleister in the beige habit and Kihara Noukan the golden retriever did not dare approach.
But it did not reach Christian Rosencreutz.
Anna Kingsford switched to water from her index finger and invisible ether from her thumb, but it was all wrenched off course before it could reach the silver young man and thrown into an entirely unrelated space.
But the woman was not shaken.
Alice Anotherbible was dead.
Truly dead.
If nothing was done, this kind of tragedy would reach every last corner of the current world.
There was no doubt about that.
Christian Rosencreutz’s tyranny could not be allowed to spread any further.
This called for resolve, not rejection. You might fear an unknown phenomenon or being, but an expert knew all too well that being paralyzed by that fear robbed you of any chance of victory.
You could not call yourself a magician if you were unable to convert that fear into a useful learning experience.
“This old man is the one who slumbers in the heart of the holy ground guarded by the seven walls. If you truly wish to tear down these walls, you must dedicate 120 years of tireless effort to the task.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Heh heh. So you aren’t naïve enough to be deceived by mere words?”
CRC stroked his silver beard and chuckled.
Why bother shouting your special move’s name with practical magic?
What did you gain by explaining what you were doing?
There was no benefit aside from vocally confirming the process so you did not get anything wrong. To expand on the psychological side, psyching yourself up and suppressing the trembling fear may have also counted. But these experts had no need for such things.
Aleister Crowley could only watch the works of these two experts.
Kihara Noukan was shouting something in human language next to him, but his voice sounded so distant. No, Aleister simply couldn’t afford to redirect even a fraction of his attention.
Even a magician of his level could not find room to intervene. But Aleister did deserve credit for the valiant effort it took to cling to consciousness rather than fainting from extreme tension and toppling backwards.
A true expert did not need a grand spiritual item or a limited holy ground.
In fact, they would be so much easier to deal with if they did. Then you could stop their secret arts by stealing their tool or throwing them off of that land. If that was all it took, then Aleister, the one who had singlehandedly conquered the Battle of Blythe Road, would have used whatever trickery necessary to remove or neutralize his opponent’s weapon or advantage and won without so much as a word.
However, these two experts had no such weaknesses.
They used simple breaths.
They used mere fingertips.
They used no more than gestures.
When they took the fundamentals to this extreme, a magician could produce miracles powerful enough to bisect the entire world with nothing more than their own body. For one thing, Kabbalah said the small human body and the large world corresponded to each other. In that sense, relying on external tools to complete one’s spells could be seen as the heretical option.
Aleister understood that.
Intellectually, anyway.
But that argument was like saying understanding the logic behind the Big Bang allowed someone to produce a Big Bang.
Yet these two were pulling it off.
Could a feat only be called magic once it was brought to this level?
Were humans really allowed to accomplish something like this?
“What fun. I never imagined someone would bother diligently polishing their skills this far while knowing it is all essentially an illusion. Didn’t you ever feel silly going to the effort?”
“You could ❌ have been like this back when you constructed your 🏠 of the Holy Spirit with your seven disciples. What happened to your respect and 🟰 treatment of others, CRC?”
“They don’t make experts like they used to. This talking is a waste of time.”
CRC mimed rocking something with a hand.
That hand did not hold a glass vial or a toxic liquid, but that didn’t matter.
The phenomenon alone manifested there.
“That is the yellow symbol, one of the four processes sought by all people in their dreams. Thou symbolize the coming of the transformation beyond decomposition. Thy role is-”
“A single straight line.”
“Kee hee hee. Let me finish! I mean fermentation. The benevolent transformation and violence that brings even greater meaning to the cadaver!! Appear before us, Citrinitas, the color that converges the eternal four processes onto a single point!!!”
A massive amount of sand erupted forth. The brutal weapon that had once engulfed the entire city of Los Angeles approached Kingsford like it had forgotten the traits of a solid and become an effluence of sticky acid.
The goddess of wisdom had already completed the necessary response.
As announced, she simply moved her right foot to draw a single line across the ground.
That was all it took to cleanly slice through the breath of sand and return the mass of several hundred tons to the void.
A complex and incomprehensible magic circle was in fact much like an uncommented hacked-together app script. The many small bits of writing did not make it impressive. It should be looked down on with disdain for needing to write that whole mess to activate a single spell. Standard symbols like a single line, circle, or triangle were the true essence of magic. If you properly understood what they meant and drew out their effects well enough, that one line could become a last resort powerful enough to divide the world between you and your enemy and save your life.
“A true expert needs ❌ words. …Are you toying with me, CRC?”
“Of course I am. Magic is no more than illusions and child’s play – it has no worth beyond momentary amusement. Heh heh. But the most amusing part is you wielding it looking so deadly serious, descendent of the Rose.”
Rosencreutz stroked his silver beard while his shoulders shook with laughter. He looked so wide open that an attack from any direction should have been able to score a clean hit.
But the other expert knew all too well what would happen if she fell for his ruse and thoughtlessly launched an attack.
And it did not end there.
Viewing the equal threat was not enough.
“Now, this old man is about ready to end this game of house.”
“?”
His grand speeches were a diversion.
He snuck the preparations for some other spell between the words.
Anna Kingsford accurately recognized that.
Christan Rosencreutz continued his needlessly over-the-top manner of speech.
While grinning.
“Arise, Alice Anotherbible. Cadaver though you may be, the vessel of flesh remaining in this mortal world can still drag that woman down into the gaping maw of the underworld.”
An unpleasant sound followed.
It was the raw sound of tearing flesh and snapping bone. Anna Kingsford grimaced at the sound coming from the side of her head which reached her more through her bones than her ears.
The romance-loving golden retriever howled in disgust.
“You would force someone you killed to do your bidding!?”
The rusty scent came from Kingsford herself.
Headless Alice Anotherbible’s young fingers had gouged down to Kingsford’s carotid artery and then torn it apart.
“Heh heh. You mustn’t write off a threat just because of a little thing like death.” The silver young man smirked. “You appear to have at least some small connection to the Rose, but have you forgotten how to produce the red elixir which can conquer any and all disease and manipulate even one’s lifespan?”
“!!”
A single wave of her arm broke Kinsgford free of the doll. Alice’s corpse did not put up any real resistance. It flopped onto the cold ground like a discarded toy and ceased all movement. Like it had all been some kind of mistake. Like that cold lump of flesh had no further possibilities and always should have remained obediently dead.
But Kingsford remained slanted and could not straighten herself up.
Or maybe it was only her head that was tilted at an unnatural angle.
The right half of her vision was dyed red.
When she reflexively held a hand to the wound, she felt something odd. The inhumanely solid sensation was probably her own neckbone.
That one attack had been lethal.
Using only your own body to produce any and all spells meant that physical damage placed a drastic restriction on your actions.
Christian Rosencreutz took a step toward her.
Everything had gone as he planned.
…Or so one would think, but a question left that wicked expert’s mouth.
“Why do you still appear so confident?”
“You can ❌ tell, CRC?”
Anna Kingsford smiled despite the paleness of her face, the red color staining the hand on her neck, and the blood spurting between her fingers.
At some point, the smile had transferred from one expert to the other.
“I am ❌ more than a preserved corpse modified for free movement. I was ☠️ from the beginning, so why should I fear ☠️? My true fear is departing without leaving anything for those who will remain in this 🌍. But it would seem even that was an unfounded fear.”
“…”
“My pointless ☠️ will awaken others. If it will start something new and leave something behind, then I have won this ⚔️ by creating something from nothing, CRC.”
That was the end of it.
The silver young man clicked his tongue and swung his hand horizontally, bisecting the goddess of wisdom through the torso.
In her final moments, she spoke.
With a fading smile.
And no hesitation.
“I leave this 🌍 and its people with you, Crowley, my apprentice’s apprentice who will one day become an expert.”
And.
In a show of abysmal timing, Aleister was not the only one who witnessed it.
Yes, hadn’t Anna Kingsford said her death would awaken others?
“…”
The pointy-haired high school boy forgot to breathe.
The Shrink Drink spear wobbled weakly in his left hand.
Kamijou Touma had been present for that final moment. He had seen it all, his eyes widened to the limit. He had seen Alice Anotherbible, head crushed and lifeless on the ground, and the mystery woman who was sliced in two and blown away.
There was nothing here but blood, death, and the scars of destruction.
He lost control of his senses. He couldn’t absorb even the most basic information. With no solid footing, he couldn’t accept the reality before his eyes. Next to him, Aradia held a small wicked woman. Anna Sprengel had been hit by the Shrink Drink, a spiritual item designed for use against Transcendents. She was already doomed to die, with the only remaining hope being Alice who had imbued the Shrink Drink with her power. Only she could save Anna Sprengel.
But.
Alice Anotherbible was no more.
So what would happen now?
He turned toward Kamijou. His eyes shined inhumanly bright and he chuckled.
“Heh heh. And what are you going to do now?”
“Ah. Ahh.”
A single display of malice had brought it all crumbling down.
He would never see Alice’s innocent smile again.
The tears from when they had parted ways replayed in the back of his mind, mired with static.
Kamijou couldn’t even apologize anymore.
And.
Now he couldn’t save Anna Sprengel either?
“Ahhhhh!! Ahhhhhhhhhh, ahh, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!”
He screamed as something seemed to burst in his head.
He thought he heard Aradia’s voice coming from a great distance. He had a feeling she was trying to tell him to stop.
Kamijou Touma himself probably didn’t understand why he did what he did.
He rushed in.
With a single backhand swat, the silver young man shattered the Shrink Drink spear in Kamijou’s left hand. But the boy still clenched his teeth and squeezed his right fist so tight he could have broken his own hand.
They were so close they could feel each other’s breaths.
Christian Rosencreutz whispered.
He was definitely smiling.
He removed the stroking hand from his silver beard.
“Is that all you can do?”
Kamijou was crushed and thrown away.
Even he was unsure what had happened to his body.
His vision was squashed up and he heard a mysterious ringing in his ears, but that one voice reached his brain as clear as crystal.
“Now, I believe it’s time to slaughter those Transcendents who got a little too interested in divine roleplay.”
The voice sounded carefree.
But it was in fact making a horrific death threat.
Kamijou’s own voice spoke in his mind: but why? He soon received his answer.
“Do you need a reason to kill time?” announced the silver young man in the red robe, stroking his beard. “This is their punishment for bringing this old man into such a dull and boring world. They can soothe this old man’s ennui with their worthless lives. How else can you make up for what you have done, Transcendents?”
