Motoharu Tsuchimikado was the caller.

  “Nya. Kammy, got kind of a long conversation. You free right now, bro?”

  “I guess. Why are you using the phone? You live right next door. You could just come visit.”

  “Well, there’s a very compelling reason for that, you see, nya. Also, sorry for calling when you’re probably busy with dinner.”

  “Considering what’s happening over here, I’d actually like to thank you…Wait, it’s that late already?! Crap, I haven’t gotten anything ready for dinner!! Tsuchimikado, if you need something, keep it short!!”

  “Huh? Oh, I get it. But, well, you see…Where should I start…? The Eurotunnel explosion…No, that would be too sudden. I’d have to go all the way back to world affairs first—”

  “Short, please!! Miss Index is starting to realize dinner will be late tonight, and there’s practically angry flames going up all around her!!”

  “I see,” hummed Tsuchimikado, sounding dissatisfied.

  “Then I’ll keep it short. You’re going to Britain—now.”

  ………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

  “I, um, uhhh, what was that?”

  “We’ve got an airplane ready. Once you get to School District 23, go to the international airport and pick up the stuff in locker number 3293 from the cloakroom service at the third reception desk. Everything you need, like passports, will be in there. You can use your Academy City ID as your ticket number, so if you tell reception your name is Touma Kamijou, they’ll get the stuff for you.”

  “Uh, wait, hang on! I don’t get it! You’re leaving out a lot of things!! Britain? Now? Isn’t there way more stuff you need to explain first?!”

  “Kammy, you were the one who said to keep it short.”

  “Well, yeah, but you’re being really blunt today for some reason!! Why do I have to go to Britain? …Wait. I have a bad feeling about this. First Chioggia, Italy; then Avignon, France…Nothing good ever happens when I travel overseas!! And this time, the destination is home to not only tons of sorcerer’s societies but also the headquarters for English Puritanism!! This is super terribly bad!!”

  “Hmm. Kammy, your prediction is pretty much on the mark, but I’ll tell you this: It’s already too late.”

  Right after he said that, Kamijou heard a shrill clattering noise from the balcony, like an iron pipe clunking to the ground. Apparently, someone had thrown something over from an adjacent room.

  Kamijou looked to see a small can, similar to hairspray.

  Then he heard a rush of gas coming out of it.

  “Ubrhgh!! Hack, cough!! B-breathable knockout gas?!”

  “Right, one last thing. You’re generally having a bad time anyway—whether or not you’re abroad, isn’t that right?”

  That was a surprising thing to say, but he didn’t have any room to object.

  Kamijou and Index (and the calico), attacked by an unreasonable drowsiness that seemed to be paralyzing their whole bodies, were forced to shift into deep sleep.

  6

  “The explosion accident in the Eurotunnel connecting Britain and France is affecting air travel. Because multiple aircraft have mobilized to transport goods and personnel between the two nations, it is possible our normal schedules will see delays. For detailed takeoff and landing schedules, please see the reception desk at your—”

  Touma Kamijou awoke to an announcement.

  When he came to, he was on a bench in an airport lobby.

  “…Today’s getting a little too dynamic for my taste…”

  He shook his head, which felt strangely heavy, then got up and felt a rustling. There was a small note near his hands. According to it…

  Nya. You’re too late for the last trains and buses since they stop at all-school closing time. I emptied your wallet, too, so you can’t use a taxi to get back, sucker. There’s a few British bills in the cloakroom luggage, so have a nice trip!

  …You bastard, he thought. He considered taking the luggage and going home, but he couldn’t use British pounds for Japanese taxis. He could have just exchanged it for yen, but banks were probably closed this late at night.

  Anyway, if I’m going outside the city, don’t I need to have a transmitter nanodevice implanted or go with a parent or guardian? I feel like it’s been all dirty tricks lately…

  As he wondered what was going on, he grabbed Index’s shoulders—she was sleeping on the bench like he’d been—and shook them. “Hey, Index, wake up already.”

  “Mm, ohhh…I feel like I could sleep like this for three days.”

  “You’re supposed to be scared. That’s not natural. You too, cat.”

  The small cat, front legs twitching, awoke from his dream, sniffed Kamijou’s fingertip, then finished waking up. Index was having trouble doing the same, as usual, so Kamijou dragged her away and walked to this “third reception desk” or whatever it was.

  “Mr. Touma Kamijou, correct? I have your things from 3293. Would you like me to bring them here, sir?” asked the lady at the reception desk.

  Kamijou couldn’t figure out whether they had enough things or not. For now, he decided to nod and accept the enormous suitcase from her, then popped it open to examine its contents.

  Inside were foreign-looking bills and passports, flight tickets, something that looked an awful lot like a letter of instruction, as well as a few changes of clothes that must have been purchased at a super-cheap chain store.

  Kamijou took the flight tickets, read what was printed on them, and groaned to himself. “Are you serious? It really does have the name of a London airport on here.”

  “Wait, why do we have to go to Britain right now anyway?”

  “Well…Oh, wait, there’s something scribbled here.”

  He glanced at the sheaf of papers that contained instructions, but his mind was still shaky from the knockout gas he’d inhaled. Normally, he’d have been more careful while reading, but somehow his head couldn’t quite process what his eyes were seeing.

  “…Hmm…It seems like…there’s some big sorcery problem going on in Britain, and they wanted to extend a formal invitation to you, Index…,” he muttered aloud. “And…Index’s current guardian is Touma Kamijou…so I have to come with you or something…”

  “They think you’re my guardian? That’s a surprising evaluation.”

  “Little kids who get other people to cook them food every day don’t get to talk.” Kamijou sighed. “Do we really have to do this? It honestly seems like a big pain.”

  Sorcery troubles that were manifestly important enough to call Index all the way there made him not want to go, but if he made a break for his student dorm now, he was pretty sure the flame sorcerer Stiyl Magnus or someone like him would come to attack him in real life. Apparently, the problem was too big to be ignored.

  Wait, wasn’t there some big explosion in some tunnel or other in Britain recently? …I’m getting all sorts of bad feelings about this…

  Still, nothing would come of whining about it.

  Which meant he had to go through the boarding process.

  Time passed quickly while they were putting their pet in a tagged cage and passing through the metal detector (just like the time they went to Chioggia, her safety-pin-covered habit set it off again).

  “Britain, huh?” said Index, wearing a plain dress from their suitcase’s super-cheap stack of clothes changes.

  Kamijou gave her a blank look. “Now that you mention it, the English Puritan Church’s headquarters is summoning us there. That means you’re going back to your homeland, where you were born, right?”

  “Well, it doesn’t feel very real. I mean, I don’t have any memories from before a year ago,” she said. She wasn’t forcing herself to not worry about it, either—she honestly didn’t seem to care very much. She’d even left the papers with instructions for when they were in Britain with him.

  …No memories, huh…?

  Not noticing what Kamijou was thinking, Index asked, “Touma, where’s the aerialplane-thing we’re going to ride?”

  “Hm? Tsuchimikado said he got one ready just for us.”

  One wall of the arrivals and departures lobby was a glass pane. Through it was a runway stretching out into the night. Several large passenger planes were there, with self-driving cars for workers weaving between them as they went.

  “Umm, it says it would be flight 0001 waiting at gate four, but—”

  When he looked in that direction, he froze.

  What he saw was a waiting passenger plane.

  Max speed of over seven thousand kilometers per hour.

  The very monstrous plane that could shoot from Japan all the way to Europe in two hours.

  At that very moment, the nightmare from when they were on the emergency flight from Chioggia back to Japan went through both their minds: how Index had recklessly ordered in-flight food while in that realm of eerie suffering, their hearts compressed by severe g-forces—and it had all gone flying backward in the plane.

  “…”

  “…”

  While they reflected upon it, preparations for the supersonic passenger jet’s takeoff were proceeding smoothly. A forklift carried a container to it—maybe their calico was in there. As the two of them thought to themselves some more, they began to mutter idly.

  “Hey, Index.”

  “What is it, Touma?”

  “Let’s give up on that flight and get the next one, even if we have to wait for the cancellation to go through. A flight that’s normal and not harmful to humans.”

  “I’m okay with any aerialplane where my food doesn’t go flying behind me.”

  Kamijou and Index exchanged a firm handshake, then quietly saw the supersonic passenger plane off.

  Somehow, they thought they could hear the calico cry out that they were heartless.

  INTERLUDE ONE

  It looks like France is finally acting, doesn’t it?

  The Roman Orthodox Church may be nagging them from behind, but I have to say, they responded awfully obediently. There’s no doubt that an explosion in the Eurotunnel—the only land route connecting the United Kingdom and France—would deal a severe blow to France’s economy, too, but nonetheless. To think they’d blow up all three parts of the seafloor tunnel…

  But they still don’t have it worse than Britain.

  Yes, you’re certainly right.

  For an island nation, destroying the only accessible land route is like cutting off half its lifeline. For now, they’re preventing any supply shortages by adding more voyages and flights to their sea and air routes, but soon enough, their costs will go into the red and past what they can handle.

  After all, it’s far less expensive to transport the same amount of goods by train than by airplane.

  Some optimistic critic was saying that if they relied on water transportation, it would solve the problem. But that’s not in the cards. When the Eurotunnel opened, it devastated several ports—they’d be using the tunnel instead. They can talk all they want about going back to entirely water-based transport, but the flow of goods will only dry up. It would cause traffic jams, forcing the country to its knees under the sheer weight of the goods that need to be moved, like a department store register during a bargain sale.

  It should take three months at minimum to restore the seafloor tunnel. Store shelves won’t be the same until that’s finished. Plus, the restoration work is fraught with a complex web of motives. It would be stranger if no troublesome situations arose.

  Hm? Oh, yes, you’re right.

  France has the European countries behind them, controlled by the Roman and Russian factions. Britain has Academy City’s support, and they’ve apparently requested more aid from the U.S.

  Hah.

  This will be a war between the euro and the dollar, won’t it?

  The U.S. suffered the most economic damage from the document incident in Avignon. Investors’ attention is already elsewhere. It’s precisely because they know they’re in a tight situation that they’re terrified of the euro and the market based on it getting a boost. Enough to make them want to trip up their enemies.

  Our idiotic Terra of the Left is responsible for this stupid state of affairs.

  You know just as well as the rest of us, don’t you?

  You were the one who personally ended him.

  This incident directly originates in the centuries of bad blood between Britain and France. But since the U.S. economy and the European economy are clashing, we’ve entered a state of Anglo-French cold war.

  Europe will go nuts.

  What’s starting now isn’t a war between individual nations.

  No, it won’t end there.

  It looks like that bastard Fiamma would like nothing more than to turn the entire continent into a sea of flames. What pisses me off the most is that Fiamma is the very person in complete control of nearly the entire Roman-Russian faction. You and I can give whatever orders we want. Nobody’s left to listen to them. We have no authority.

  You’re going anyway?

  I’ll admit, you’ve got quite a bit of strength. If it came down to a stupid straight-up brawl, you might be better than me.

  But will your strength help against a calamity that threatens to destroy entire nations, the entire world? There are no enemies or allies, no direction to go—it’s like a disaster movie, attacking equilibrium from all directions. How effective will that strength of yours be, I wonder?

  Well, if you want to go, I won’t stop you.

  I don’t have the right, and I don’t have any duty to care about your life, either.

  But I will tell you my plans. I’m not going. Eh? Don’t speak in that tone to me. No, I’m not scared. I can’t use my divine judgment spell anymore. God’s Right Seat—well, other than you—can’t use normal sorcery or Soul Arms. I’m just going to stop by a few places and make some of the preparations I need to.

  Besides, my plans will probably be more effective at frustrating Fiamma than waltzing right into the fray like an idiot.

  Nobody gives me orders.

  You walk your own path, and I’ll walk mine.

  Eh?

  Wasn’t your catchphrase “nothing is impossible for me”?

  It doesn’t matter, does it?

  I just say whatever fits my mood at the time. What, do I look like a clever person with self-restraint?

  CHAPTER 2

  Steel Battlefield Floating Above the Clouds

  Skybus_365.

  1

  Itsuwa, girl of Amakusa, puffed out her cheeks with an irritated glare.

  When she heard the boy, Touma Kamijou, would be using an Academy City–made supersonic passenger jet to arrive, she ran all over putting things together, then went to a London airport to be his Japanese-speaking guide—but now that she was there, he was nowhere to be found. Something strange must have gone wrong, because the only thing that ended up in her hands was a calico in a cage, registered as their pet.

  This was supposed to be her chance! She’d buy anything, even the Great Fairy Flashy Maid Set!! She’d gotten so enthusiastic about it, she was considerably disappointed. Bearing the small calico-carrying cage, she’d gone back home to Little Tokyo, where she, a minor at her own dining table, was guzzling down a 1.8-liter bottle of alcohol. She even had dried squid on a small plate to go with it.

  They told her that boy would be coming with the Index for business.

  Watching Itsuwa, their faces pale, were her roommates, the tiny Kouyagi and the female Tsushima. The large Ushibuka’s shock, in particular, had been great—he’d hidden that bottle of potato shochu in a storage space under the kitchen floor.

  “U-um, excuse me, Itsuwa…? I-it was just a slight mishap. Do you really need to be so depressed over it…?” asked the married Nomozaki gently, putting a stranglehold on Ushibuka, who threatened to go crazy over his precious “duke of potatoes” being swiped.

  In response, Itsuwa poured more of the liquid into her very unadorned clear cup.

  “Hic…I’m not…I’m not depressed…Damn it. That’s right; that’s right. Why would I…?”

  Mutter-mutter-mutter-mutter-mutter-mutter-mutter-mutter-mutter-mutter. Itsuwa’s lips remained still as she mumbled incomprehensibly, mostly venting at this point.

  “…God, just what…what’s this ‘duke of potatoes’ anyway…? You can’t…can’t even tell if it’s potatoes or sweet potatoes. What an annoying name for a drink…”

  “Then don’t drink it!” cried Ushibuka, tears in his eyes. “Don’t take away my love!!”

  That’s when it happened.

  The past-middle-aged Isahaya’s face lit up as he entered the room, and this was the first shot he fired:

  “H-hey!! The young man is still on schedule! He’s apparently in London now!!”

  With a crash and a clatter, Itsuwa shot to her feet. The bottle tipped over as she did and dribbled its expensive liquid contents onto the table. “Hgyyaaaah my duke of potatoes!!” screamed Ushibuka, before the lady Tsushima shut him up with a chop to the neck.

  But Itsuwa didn’t have time for that.

  That boy was in London?

  They’d told her at the airport that nobody fitting his description had been aboard, but perhaps it was merely a mistake, and he had been on the plane after all? Which meant—would he…? Would he visit her?!

  Itsuwa’s face almost began to shine with a soft, dazzling glitter, but then her happy expression abruptly froze.

  She noticed something.

  The disastrous scene she’d perpetrated.

  …She was drunk on potato liquor. With every breath inhaled and exhaled came the stark stench of sake. A dried squid leg was hanging out of the corner of her mouth. Would he see her in such a terrible, unsightly state…?

  “I-it’s all over!! If that happens, it’s all over for me!!”

  For now, she just had to do something about appearances. She ate all of the dried squid legs, poured breath mints into her mouth, washed her face, and tried to stand up crisp and straight. But she was still walking like she was clearly drunk, and her face was as red as an old man’s at a horse race.

 

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